


In The Master's House

by geekinlikeaboss



Series: Victorian Avengers AU [1]
Category: Frostiron - Fandom, Iron Man - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Thor - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, BDSM, F/M, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Slave Training, Smut, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekinlikeaboss/pseuds/geekinlikeaboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is the petulant, willful son of the Lord of Asgardshire. Suppressed in his own desires to the point of mischief, he is often seen as a bully and a contentious ass by most. So it comes as some shock to him when a brash, confident stranger from the colonies decides to whip him into shape...literally! </p><p>WARNING: This is a thematic piece that delves into BDSM, slave training, dubious consent, and generally NSFW material. If it's not your idea of a good time, then please just don't read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The estates lands could best be described as the most picturesque in all of Asgardshire. Full of birch, rowan, ash and elm, it made for pleasant scenery when one was of a mind to take a quiet ride alone.

Though from the quick pace of hooves behind him, it seemed that the young Lord Loki was to be interrupted in his private thoughts. He did not slow his mounts pace as his brother cantered up beside him, dressed primly in a crimson riding coat with gold trim and silver buckles. He looked to be in an especially good mood, which only served to further sour Loki’s humor.

“Where did you meander to this day, brother?” Thor questioned as they trotted together in the forest bridal path. “Did father not tell you to spend your day close to the manor?”

“He did and I did not ignore him. I am still within Odinson lands and so shall be for at least another six leagues at least. I see no reason to bore myself with the tapestries today.” Loki answered back stiffly, turning his head from his brothers golden visage.

“You do know that the Ullvard family has been called upon to pay us a visit this evening.” Thor warned. When Loki did not answer he reached for the reins of his horse, pulling his dark haired sibling into a halt. “Father means us to greet his daughters, Vilgri and Hildar.”

“I am well aware of his intentions.” He jerked the leather back, his gloves creaking against the leather as his grip tightened menacingly. “I find it insulting to be so paraded about as though I were a pretty bauble to be auctioned at market. And as for the Ullvard daughters, I have met them before. And I do now as I did them find them as dull as paint and pennies in both countenance and conversation.” Loki made to kick the horse into a canter and Thor mimicked him, determined to bring his brother to heel.

“You should not speak thus! The Ullvard are well respected throughout Alfdale. Their family had stock in the new railroads in the colonies, and makes a tidy profit through the sugar business. Their purse would add greatly to our own and their social standing would…”

“I fail to see the attraction in this.” Loki’s voice never lost its affluent tone, even when forced to raise. “Is father not the most wealthy lord for three hundred leagues in any direction? Do we not have all which we might require and more then so?” He pulled up the steed and snapped around to the side, forcing Thor to jerk his beast to a halt to avoid running into him. “Why then must you or I be lead down the aisle at his tune?”

“Because that is the price of privilege.” His brother reasoned. “I am of no more a mind to wed then you. But I do know my place in this world. The Ullvard have connections to the Hofunds of Jotunglen. And them to the Svolbards of Niflevale by family. A simply ‘I do’ might well bind us to the three most powerful families in the nine provinces.” The blond lord reached out and took his darker brother by the shoulder. “It is not in our hands, that which fate and father have chosen for us. And Vilgri is quite comely.”

“And less interesting then a stack of blank papers.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Now if you’ve a mind to take a wife with no introspection capable, then so be it. But I will not be made to marry Hildar. She is the sort who thinks flowers and the weather the only topics of conversation appropriate in any company…including the bower.”

Thor’s smile dropped. “And what would you know of Hildar’s bower? Or any woman’s?” He shook his head. “Your mouth speaks with no knowledge and much bluster, Loki. I tell you now, come home. Sip tea. Make nice, and when the contracts for our marriage are signed and you get her with child, your days will be your to do as you wish. But until that day comes we are the both of us bound to the will of our father and should remain loyal.”

A sneer covered his pale face and Loki kicked his heels into the horses flanks, taking off at a faster pace that Thor could follow. His brother always did favor a blunter mount, while Loki chose those graced with speed. The black steed carried him swiftly from the site of his brothers sun kissed hair and dashing visage. Within moment he was far from the trail and off into the woods, happy to be gone from the company of those who saw him with such ill favor.

Facing the wrath of Lord Odin upon his return troubled him little. If his father had all but sworn his sons hands to the Ullvard girls then there was nothing for it. A wedding would take place, likely in the appropriate season with all the right people invited to the lovely affair. His appearance at supper tonight would make little difference. There was some regret at the disappointment his mother, the lady Frigga, would show at his socially inappropriate behavior, but not enough to make him turn back. Besides, Thor would do as he always did. Make excuses for his errant sibling, take the hands of the insulted ladies, and smile until their wrists were worn from fanning themselves.

He slowed to a trot before the horse could become too lathered. There was a small pond just near enough that he could see the sun glistening of the waters, setting a charming glance to the whole scene. Loki realized he was nearer the road into town then he thought and if he went along it, he was sure to reach the pub before dusk. The thought of cold pint of cheap beer and poor company that would shame his lord father pleased him greatly, and he kicked the horse into a walk.

It was not until he reached the other side of the pool past the willow tree that he noted a woman, her laundry in a hand woven basket, settled down at the water to wash her things. Loki’s nose crinkled imperiously. He took out his riding crop and snapped it smartly against the horse, bucking it forward. “You there, washing woman!” he called out, startling the poor thing. He cared little. “This pond is on my families land. How dare you bring your filthy rags to it!”

She stammered and began to grab for her dainties. “Forgive me my lord, I meant no offense!” she insisted. She was clearly a matron by her paunch and poor posture. “I had thought this the pond the house of Odinson gave leave for village use out of the generosity of his heart.”

Loki scoffed. “Well if it is then you have done a greater wrong by polluting it with this filth!” He kicked the basket from her hand, sending it spilling into the wet dirt and grass. “Off with you wench!” he raised his crop to do her damage.

“It is a poor site when the son of a great lord spends his days bullying the commonwealth.”

Loki’s arm halted at the voice, so full of swaggering confidence. He looked about to see a man, perhaps ten years his senior, leading a dapple grey stallion to drink. A quick glance told him that the cut of the man’s cloth was once quite stylish, but now against the lean of fashion. He was strikingly handsome, in a rakish sort of way. But his smile was too insolent to be tolerated. And besides this, though his speech was high, his accent was clearly American. “And who would you be, sir, to speak to me thus?”

“Should it matter my name? Or may a man only speak if he carries a swollen purse and a riding crop?” The man tied off his stallion to a tree branch and stood between Loki and the assaulted lady.

“If such was the law then a voice like yours would be blessedly silent.” Loki quipped back. “I ask again, what is your name? I mean to have you disciplined when my father hears of this!”

“Discipline is it? Well by all means, young master…” He said as to infer insult. “Or do you lack the courage and fortitude to discipline me, and must rely upon your father to wield any real power?” The man opened his arms and stepped back, offering challenge.

The young lord fumed as he dismounted, still gripping the crop tightly. “You will regret these words, villain.”

“You call me a villain and yet you would attack an unarmed woman?” The stranger shook his head. “You are a proud fool indeed!” Loki raised the crop to strike but the stranger took it in his palm and jerked it from the leathered grip. He tossed it carelessly aside and shook his head. “Cowardly whelp. You should be taught manners better than this.”

Loki stumbled back a little till the word coward came out. He grit his teeth hard and attacked the man, the two of them wrestling by the side of the pond as each tried valiantly to gain the upper hand. Loki swung with his right fist and was met and a stronger muscle then his own, taking hold his wrist and swinging him under the strangers arm like a sack of flour. “Unhand me!” he yelled angrily and beat upon the man with clenched fists.

“No manner of etiquette, nor noble concept of defeat.” The rakish man tsked as though this were a matter of great shame and shook his head. “I believe a cooler head might provide more perspective.” And with this he flung the youth into the cold waters, sending ducks and frog scurrying to avoid the splash. The stranger laughed boldly and even the washing woman seemed unable to cover a smile.

Loki gasped and floundered, covered now in mud and algae. His second best black riding vest entirely ruined and his boots squishing with water, he stood and tried not to look as indignant as he felt, though his face betrayed his fury.

“I think you’d best be off woman. The rest of this is not meant for such pretty eyes.” He bowed to her with a gentlemanly flourish and the country lady took his advice, being off with her belongings quickly.

“You bastard!” Loki roared as he struggled to climb up the bank. “I will have you for this…guuugh!”

The stranger grabbed hold of the scalps of his head, he hauled the youth up and spoke strictly now that they were alone. “It would seem that I have you, my young lord. And how young a fish have I caught?” When Loki struggled and tried to wrench his head from the man’s grip, the stranger pulled tighter, grasping his wrists and twisting them painfully behind Loki’s back. “Answer to me.”

Loki gasped. “I am four and twenty, sir!”

“Sir now is it? When sir it should have been from the start and lady then before that!” He laughed, a little bit disappointed. “It would seem the best way to instill you with a bit of respect is indeed to take a firm hand.” He dragged Loki across the meadow to his horse, keeping a firm grip on his wrist so the bedraggled one could not escape. From his satchel he took a rope and neatly bound the gloved hands as though he had done this many times before. “So, as your own parents do not seem in attendance, I shall take it upon myself to teach you a valuable lesson.” He tied the other end of the rope to his saddle and let Loki try to undo himself as he made sure that the young man’s horse was set free and headed off to its home. Trusting that it was a well-trained beast. As he walked back towards his trophy, he bent down to pick up the riding crop and gave it an experimental swing. Nodding in satisfaction, the man mounted his dapple grey.

“My own father once told me that a bit of exercise is the best thing for the brash youth. So, shall we have a run?” The stranger kicked the horse into a light canter, forcing Loki to choose between being drug or running. When they had gone far enough from the town that no one might see them, he moved up to a gait, making the son of the noble house run in wet boots and struggle to keep up. He reached a meadow with hills on all sides, near to the forest enough that they would go undisturbed and chuckled in lively mirth as he ran Loki back and forth. He was no so cruel as to bring him undo harm. When Loki at last stumbled and fell, landing face first in the dirt from exhaustion, the man stopped his mount immediately and totted back to his side.

“Well tired I think?” he said and watched the heavy fury of the young man’s chest rise and fall. A dark glare from his bright green eyes said that the lesson was not yet learned. “Stubborn. A bit of strength may be a good thing in a man, but in a foolish child it is a poor quality.” He dismounted and grabbed hold of the rope again. “Now then, since you’ve no beast to bare your burden, perhaps you should canter back to your house instead?”

“I shall do no such thing!” Loki gasped, though he was deeply out of breath. “How dare you! Do you know not who I am? When my family discovers of this…?”

“And shall you tell them? Shall you speak to your family that you attempted abuse on a simple common woman and were thus humiliated by your own contempt for others?” He smiled knowingly. “I think not, young sir…no. No forgive me you are no sir. That name should be reserved for such as who have earned the title of a gentleman.” He reached forward and took Loki by the chin, his deep chocolate brown eyes gazing into his with force. “I shall give you then a name more fitting. I shall call you Little Prince.”

From his mouth it sounded like that title one might give a particularly small and yappish dog that sits on the laps of ladies and grows fat on treats. It was vile in Loki’s ears and he ached to fight this man again.

“Ah, the Little Prince has some spirit in him. Some pride too! These are good things indeed, but so untempered!” the stranger took the crop and snapped it against his hip. “Canter, Little Prince. Or there will be no more warnings.” When Loki tugged on the rope, the man wrapped his end closed and tugged it hard, forcing Loki on his knees and elbows, struggling in the dirt. “ _Tsk tsk._ How shall you explain your ruined attire to your tailor?” He then brought down the crop across the youths backside with such ferocity the echo of it cracked off the trees.

Loki yelled and moved instinctively to guard his hips, rolling to one side. No one had ever _dared_ to strike him before. The second son of Lord Odin of Asgardshire! “You…you…”

“I warn you, a foul tongue will result in harsher dealings.” He jerked the rope, forcing Loki to stand. He began to strike firmly, though not as rough as before, against the young man’s thighs and buttocks, forcing him to move if he wished to avoid it. This he did until Loki ran obediently in a circle, canter as he was told at the end of a rope. He was slick now with water and sweat, and very nearly out of stamina. But the stranger kept him running till twilight settled and the crickets chipped in the grass. Calling out his commands in a voice like iron. “Slow, bring to a trot! Well done! Gallop, gallop fast, Little Prince!” Loki began to whimper, legs sore and stumbling, thighs aching and burning deeply into the bone. Finally, he sunk to his knees, able to move no more.

“I plead you…” he gasped out as the man approached. “No more.”

A soft chuckle met his begging. “Well enough for a nights lessons, Little Prince.” A water skin was passed to him and he drank heartily stopping only to catch his breath. He had drunken wines so fine and old a vintage that many would pay dearly for a bottle of them. But nothing ever tasted so sweet and clear as this water. When he was rested enough to breath evenly, he saw the stranger sitting on a boulder under a tree, his legs crossed in a gentlemanly fashion as he watched the youth.

“What do you intend to do with me, sir?” Loki asked, somewhat trepiditious.

“Why I intend to send you on your way, Little Prince. I think you have been well chastened for one evening.” He changed his position, sitting now with his legs spread just a few inches apart. “But first, come now to me. A lesson is not well learned till it has been thoroughly driven in.” he snapped the crop smartly.

Loki hung his head. “I promise good sir I have heeded your words well.”

“Not well enough, else you would already be strung across my lap.” There was no mercy to be had in those brown eyes, and again the rope was pulled. Loki was made to crawl on his knees till he was pressed into the strangers hands. “Stand now, and drape yourself across my lap.”

What choice was there? He looked about, desperate to see if any might come should he call. He could not even seen the pinpricks of light from the manor, though he knew himself to be on his father’s estates. The sheep had already changed pastures for the seasons so there would not even be a shepherd walking past. With as much pride as he could muster, Loki leaned forward and let himself be position with his buttocks caught firmly against the stranger’s legs. Never in his life had he felt so exposed!

Then the man’s strong, gripping hands found the hem of his riding trousers and pulled at them, taking them down to the knees in one fluid movement. Loki gasped and struggled, but again he was manhandled into obedience as the same was done for his undergarment. The cool night air caressed his pale flesh as his teacher readied himself.

The first strike was without warning, and a duly painful thing to one who had never been ill-treated. Oh how it cracked and burned on him! The leather tip met his flesh and left a square shaped mark behind, reddening the tender skin. Again and again it fell, and the stranger did seem to know where best to lay down punishment. Lash after lash rained down on his body, always careful to his the rounded, well-padded tissue that deserved such castigation. Loki could not count the number of time he felt as though he might be bleeding.

Though he could not know that, had he opened flesh, the stranger would have stopped.

But he did not break the skin. Nor did the stranger stop until he heard the shy, quiet sob and sniffles of penitence burst from Loki’s plush lips. “And there we are.” He said, not unkindly. He stroked the sore and welted bottom with a gentle hand and Loki burst into tears, crying out wordlessly for mercy. “Hush now, Little Prince. You have greatly impressed me.” He replaced the undergarments and the trousers, giving and affectionate pat to tease out another strangled sob. He stood Loki up, letting the young man lean on him for support as he undid the ropes with no fear of being attacked. The youth had no fight left in him, for now. “Let this night linger in your mind when next you think to behave as a common thug instead of as a young lord.” He warned as he made to return the riding crop to its owner. Loki shuddered and shook his head, not daring to look at it. The stranger seemed unsurprised by this and added it to his belt.

Loki did not dare to look at him until he saw that his teacher had gone astride his steed, trotting it jovially about his personage before giving his student a jaunty nod and galloping off down the road towards town. The young lord stood in the field, aghast at his new experience. He coughed and rubbed his nose like a spoilt child and gasped, trying to find his composure as he walked through the forest back home. His appearance was of course met with a response both expected and unprecedented. The clamor when he entered was one of barely controlled fury from his father, followed promptly by shock and surprise from the family at the dilapidated state of him.

“Good god my boy!” Odin went slack jawed. “Have you been injured? What happened to you?”

All manner of responses went through his mind as his mother came to comfort him, caring little if her best evening gown would be soaked in pond water and sweat. But Loki discovered the truth of the strangers words when he stumbled over his answer, not daring to look up. “My horse threw me, into the pond near the village. I hit a rock when I went in and it bruised my hips.” He tried to explain away the limp as Frigga made him sit. Pain shot through his body at dear discomfort when his bottom touched the seats.

“The village?” Odin’s concern turned to gruff disapproval. “If you rode that far then it may be assumed you were not intending to arrive in time tonight.” He chuffed indignantly and looked at Thor as though he should have restrained his brother more tightly. “Thankfully we were all spared your humility when Lord Ullvard decided your absence meant your entire disinterest in his daughters!”

“Odin be at peace!” Frigga snapped harshly. “I would have words with you in private husband.” She kept her words strictly controlled in front of the servants, but as the two went up the bannister one could hear their traded voices.

_His evening has been hard enough without you adding to it! Can you not leave him be?_

_I have let him be and look what he has done with it! Terrorizing the maids with snakes in their bonnets and frogs in the butlers show polish! Is he a school boy to behave with such vulgarity? And this latest stunt! Keeping us worried at all hours of the night. Botching carefully laid marriage because it does not suit him well enough?_

_Botching your plans is what you mean!_ Oh but the ladies voice could scar when she did choose to do so with it! _Would you have him a prisoner in the bonds of matrimony?_

 _I would not hold him in any way but accountable for his misdeeds. And this is not the last of it Frigga! The boy must be brought to heel, and soon!_ The sound of a slamming door and angry footsteps. _This is not the end of it! Something must be done about him!_ Heavy, masculine footsteps walking away from the door told anyone listening that separate bedrooms were being used.

Thor finally was able to turn his attention to Loki. He looked at his siblings sad state and shook his head. “There is warm soup in the kitchen still. Would you share a bowl with me?” It was well noted that though Thor acted with all manner of civility with company, his heart appetite often found him in the kitchen at late hours. So when he shooed the wait staff off their duties, they gave no grumble.

Loki could not bring himself to eat at the moment. His thoughts were still lingering in the meadow.

“What happened?” Thor questioned briefly.

“I have told you already, brother. I fell…my horse threw me…”

“You would lie to me? When we have shared every secret of our misadventures?” Thor frowned, greatly hurt. “That horse, Coriolanus, is as gentle as a spring daisy. I trained him myself. He would no more throw you then I would!” Thor pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “What mischief have you managed this night that kept you from our engagement?”

“Our engagement…apt phrase brother.” He said breathlessly. “But I beg your indulgence if my business is kept to myself tonight. I am well beset with troubles and have no mind to speak them aloud.”

Thor seemed greatly offended by this but would not press further. He poured them both a hearty bowl of soup and tore a crust of bread from a hot loaf. “Eat then, at least give me the peace of mind that your stomach has not gone empty.” He settled then as Loki took the spoon and ate cautiously. Concern was written on the blond elder brother’s face. “Is all well? In truth brother. I have never seen you so contrite when father is angry with you. Nor so willing to submit to it!”

Loki shook his head. “I am but shaken I swear. Perhaps I hit my head as well.” He left it at that and pushed the soup away. “I must be off to bed. I require a good shower and perhaps a mug of ale if you’ve a mind to be helpful.”

Thor nodded and watched his careful, agonizing movements as Loki went for the door. “I should tell you then, before you are off to bed, father has decided to hold a spring ball.” Loki paused and turned a little to show he was listening. “Since the Ullvard’s have refused us, he wants to see who among the great lords has available daughters who are of age to wed.”

“So it begins anew.” Loki sigh miserably and nodded.

“And a new lord will attend. Some _nouveau riche_ fellow from the colonies.” Thor dipped the crust in the soup and gnawed on it. “His house is named Stark.”

Loki shrugged. “What matters it to me what new lords come to beg at father’s heels for old monies approval?” he dismissed himself from company and climbed the stairs gingerly to his rooms.


	2. Chapter Two

There was little that could be done for pain and wounded pride, but Loki did find ways to cover both his injuries. A soothing balm did assist his buttocks, though the welts did take many days to die down. For two weeks the bruises lingered as a humiliating reminder, first darkening to blackish purple, then finally fading to green and yellow like algae. He had walked with less than his usual grace and it was noted by his brother’s friends, who took the opportunity to mock him relentlessly till Thor cuffed one of them and forbade it.

Loki’s well pricked pride was a bit more difficult to defend. Try as he might to lose himself in books and his daily meanderings through the estate, his mind was drawn back to the meadow at the strangest intervals. As he passed through the stabled and training yard one day, he saw that his horse, Coriolanus, had indeed returned faithfully. Thor had him in the breaking ring at the end of a rope, ensuring that he had not mis-stepped the breaking process.

And Loki could not tear his eyes away from the strong, unyielding grip on the rope. The firm, dominant way the voice called out and the horse obeyed.

“My son, are you ill?”

And the young lord covered his burning pink cheeks with humiliation to realize he had been staring off vacantly, his mind adrift in a sea of things he did not yet understand. “Forgive me mother.” He begged her indulgence. “My mind has been occupied as of late and I cannot seem to bring it to task.”

Frigga smiled with indulgence. “Then perchance you might assist me.” He took his hand and lead him to the ballroom where preparations were underway for the spring banquet. The richest family in the nine provinces had outdone themselves once again. Great bouquets of lilies and carnations gave tasteful bursts of white and green about the hall. New chandeliers had been ordered to keep up with the improved electric lighting that was sweeping the nation. Of course the most influential house of Odinson could not be seen without such items.

“I hardly see your need for me here, mother. It seems everything is on par with your taste in excellence.” He smiled. Frigga was among that rare few who could raise a true compliment from his lips. She seemed all too pleased with the compliment and touched his shoulder lightly.

“I see you faring better for your recent fall, Loki. Will you please be sure to attend tonight?” Frigga pleaded sweetly. “I know that you do tire of these social engagements…”

“It is not the _social_ engagements which do strain me, mother. Indeed I might be more convinced to enjoy them if they were not merely an excuse to find a woman who’s family is in high enough standing to be suitable for father’s ambitions.” Loki rolled his eyes in deed discontent and Frigga took his arm in a placating gesture.

“Do not forget, your father’s ambitions are not merely for himself, but for all of us. It was not so long ago, merely in your grandfather’s early years, that this estate was under the threat of bankruptcy from the war. We might have lost everything had your grandfather Bor not passed his title as Arch Duke of Asgardshire to your father, Odin. He strove to ensure that his children would inherit not merely a title, but the lands, finances and standing it should afford.” Frigga turned to Loki. “I have made no secret that I dislike this idea of marriage for mere benefit. But it has served well enough in the past.” She straightened her sons collar till it looked prim and well polished enough to satisfy her. “Besides, while you may find all the preening ladies of no special interest, we shall be entertaining a new guest to our lands.”

“Ah yes, the notable house of Stark.” His voice was filled with a dismissive ire. “How high and noble must this Stark be to attend one of our banquets. Tell me, what is his business and trade in the Americas? Beef and a notable lack of social graces?”

“Oh hush!” Frigga said with scolding tone but could not keep the smile off her face. ‘None the less, he has requested an audience with your father to discuss the possibility of opening his business for trade here as well. I expect for you to treat him with due courtesy.” He voice sharpened up and Loki was of a mind to take this to heart.

“As you will, mother.” Loki bowed and kissed her hand lovingly. “To you I shall always give way.”

***

 _I wore my best vest and overcoat for this rabble?_ Loki chuffed as his pride as he viewed the surrounding party guests. As was to be expected, most of the arrivals were business associated and social parasites that attributed their goings on to his father. Loki had met and spoken with most of them and had little if any desire to do so again unless under duress.

Especially those who had chosen to bring the eligible daughters with them.

Thor seemed to glide easily throughout them, smiling with effortless ease at every lady. For each giggle and wave of the fan he offered a gentle, sincere flirtation to make her feel special for a moment. And yet he did not attach himself to any one of them. Merely acting sociable for the sake of keeping his name in good standing and their father’s reputation well upheld.

Loki seemed to be even more paled by comparison.

He wandered amid the crowd, showing little concern or their gossiping and catty observations. He responded when spoken to as was expected, with polite and clandestine words. Perhaps turning a witty phrase into an insult to twisted that the one being spoken to did not become aware of the transgression until later. But on the whole, Loki cared little for this.

Until a familiar, terrifying frame glided through the crowd.

Loki went rigid as a ships mast. He felt a tight clutching panic in his chest which he convinced himself was unnecessary. _What in all the nine provinces would a base born rouge like him be doing at such an auspicious event?_ He drained his wine goblet and found a servant to bring him another. Of course it was foolish to think he had seen the stranger from the meadow here! What idiocy! It was merely the strain of the evening and the absurd preoccupation with a man so lacking in common decency that had made him see that face in a crowd.

Loki did resolve to put the man from his mind entirely as his mother found him.

“Ah! There you are. Come with me. Lord Stark has arrived and your father wishes him to be introduced to the family together.” Frigga took his arm, doing the motherly duties of straightening hair and lapels as they should be before meeting someone new. Loki permitted her this.

Odin was speaking to someone, though Loki could not get a good look at who. Six or seven of his father’s usual vultures were hanging about, always eager to see if they should approve or disapprove of this new fellow based upon the lords assessment of him. Loki was only mildly curious to see someone new within the halls. Perhaps a little more so to know he was American.

The people parted to make way for Frigga and her son. And it was then that the face of the man he knew turned to see him.

The world seemed to freeze around him as warm chocolate eyes stared into his own. The face was serene, but the smallest tug of a smile played at the edge of his lips. His brow deepened with amusement and Loki felt as though he might well lose the ability to stand on his own.

“Ah! And this is my second born, Loki Silvertongue Odinson.” Odin put a hand on his younger sons shoulder and brought him forward with a smile.

“Second born. Ah well you know what they say about the second sons…” the man now known to him as Stark spoke with a hint of humor.

“I am afraid I do not.” Odin said politely. “What do they say about second sons in America, Mr. Stark?”

“That they learn all their audacity from their father…” and at this he impishly took Frigga’s hand. “…and all their beauty from their mother.”

It was a sly compliment, and well said. Odin and Frigga both laughed at the cad and seemed to take no notice of just how silent their usually liberal lipped son was being. Finally, Stark’s attention seemed to turn to him, and the man extended a hand made of grip and power to take Loki’s. “It is good to meet you at last.” He spoke then in a whisper only the two of them could heard. “ _Little Prince._ ”

Loki did strive most desperately to hold himself in. He knew that touch! That fierce, demanding, unrelenting touch that now grasped his hand all too briefly. “And welcome you are in the house of Odin Mr. Stark.”

“Anthony. My friends do call me Anthony. My very close friends call me Tony.”

“Mr. Stark then will suffice.” Loki found some measure of pride enough to sneer and remove his hand with greater eloquence then he felt capable of. Such poise they both did recover, but only Anthony Stark seemed to find this situation for the true amusement it was. “And forgive my curiosity, but what was it you said that brings you to Asgardshire?”

“I had not said yet. But it would appear that most of your toadies keep their ears to the grindstone.” He looked about with a derision for the mass that almost equaled Loki’s own. “I am an engineer by nature. I make things. Then I make them better, faster and more efficient.”

“That is a broad category you rule over Mr.Stark.” Odin said, trying to snuff out the truth of it.

“And it is one that will be beneficial to everyone, should I choose to open business here.” Stark assured them. “You should come to my estates when you’ve a mind to see my work.”

“You work out of your home?” Frigga seemed shocked but the American merely laughed.

“My business is my passion and my passion is my business, my lady. It is true that most of my work requires shipping and storage, two of the most expensive parts of any business. So it is convenient to me to keep them close at hand until the work is ready to be bought and sold.” Stark insisted.

“Tis a wise practice.” Odin agreed most heartily. He seemed overall quite taken with this new arrival. If he noted Loki’s deepest desire to make himself absent, he said nothing. “But we shall discuss shop talk later. Tell me then, what is it a man such as yourself does to amuse himself?”

Loki found a way to make himself absent as his parents spoke with the stranger. Never had he wanted to become invisible so much as now. So ensnared were his thoughts that he did not see his brother approach behind him. He jumped and almost let out an undignified noise of fear when Thor’s hand landed on his shoulder. “What would make you do such a thing?” he did chide most nervously.

“Have you met the Stark fellow, brother mine?” Thor said with infinitely good humor.

“We have…been introduced.” Loki said in as even a tone as his temper might have managed.

“Ah you dislike him already!” Thor shook his head. “So quick you are to define friend and foe alike. Take but a few moments to get to know the man before you deliver your judgments upon him.” He reached out to take Loki back to the crowd. “Have but a little discipline.”

Loki felt a shudder take him and jerked away from Thor’s grip. “I wish to have nothing to do with this man!” he said just loud enough that a few of the party guests did then take notice of him and move off quickly to quieter spaces. His face did flush so hotly with shame and memory that he cared little for what anyone might think of him. He gathered his dignity about him like armor and left with it, girded for whatever might be thought of him for failing in his attendance.

He did not expect his journey to take him to the gardens. They had often been his favored hiding spot as a child when he grew tired of his lessons and wished to learn in silence. It was too chilled in the night air to hold a feast out in the walled ivy and barely grown flower beds. And so Loki thought he could find peace and solitude he so desperately sought. His hands did shudder so fiercely, not just from cold but the strangeness now brewing in his belly. He vowed to himself not to let the thoughts linger and yet still they returned to him. His humiliation had been whipped into his own skin with such permanence that even without marks he could remember every hard lash. Loki had never in his life felt more low than that evening.

So why then did his thoughts turn to it with such repetition?

“Restless night, Little Prince?”

Loki did startle and stand, feeling for all the world as though he were stripped bare in an instant by that voice. “You! What right have you here?” he snarled, feigning bravado. “I should go into there now and tell my father all you had done to me!”

Stark sighed, a noise of true disappointment. “I am sorry to hear you say that. It would seem you learned nothing over our last encounter. Perhaps I did not take care enough for the lesson to properly form in your mind.” He walked closer, but not within reach. He was not even as tall as Loki, though he was build more solidly all together. And yet he exuded a force which was more than physical. The spring air kissed the newly awoken buds as it tussled the bush of the garden playground. It wafted the scent of this man to the younger, bringing the heady musk to his nose. Stark did unbutton his coat with graceful fingers and take from the inside of his jacket the long, capricious riding crop Loki had been unable to take. “Shall I repeat the lesson.”

Loki’s eyes darted towards the ball room. Inside were over a hundred of the finest land owners and aristocrats his father know. Such company would find themselves ill amused to see such a sight! And yet, not knowing what might come next, Loki dare not call for help! Who knew what position he might yet find himself in. “I have done no wrong tonight worthy of discipline.” He insisted in a voice from the heart, though it trembled on his lip.

Stark seemed to consider this and nodded his admittance. “Perhaps you are not without merit. But then there are no washing women here to abuse.” He did not dispense of the crop, but kept it by his side as he approached. “And my own ego is not so great that I would yet reproach the son of the master of the house for being but a bit rude to me.” He raised his hand to the pale cheek and Loki did betray himself with a flinch. Stark shook his head. “Never your face, Little Prince.” He swore in resolute tones and he lead the fine visage down to his. “I would not dare strike you here, not even to see those pretty emerald eyes water as they did before.” He laid his lips to Loki’s soft cheek, the warmth of them spreading through his flesh like a blanket.

“You take undo liberties sir.” And his breath did flutter in response as the roughness of his beard scratch his delicate skin.

“I do? Well forgive me then young master.” Stark transposed and took a step back. Loki could say not why, but in the moment of a foot step all light did leave his world. His face did plead for closer contact most prettily, but give credit to his pride, which forbid it. “I suppose then we shall have but that one evening to think on in the dull and lonely night.” He put the crop away and extended his hand as though to a lady of the house. “Would you but walk with me instead?”

Loki’s eyes did widen and again he looked to the house.

“Think not on the dull and disinterested affluent.” There was clear conniption in his voice as he paid the party no heed. “For those like you and I they are as paint and pennies.” And Loki did blink many times to hear his own words thrown back at him so unknowingly. Yet still he gave pause. Stark did gave him a winning smile, such as to put the sun to shame. “I promise on my honor no abuse shall come to you. For never have I brought out discipline to one who would but show some measure of composure.”

The young man did not look to the party again, but fell in step beside his senior. They trod upon the gravel path, neither man seeming ill bothered by the night air on their skin. Stark did not enter into conversation, but rather seemed contented in Loki’s company as an equal in this house. Yet the youth could not help but steal a glance from time to time, his curiosity nearly greater than his sense of propriety.

“If there are questions in your mind, I would have you ask them.” Stark did say at last, his eyes reflecting no malice. Loki did indeed, but to ask them would be to lower himself into admitting his own need for knowledge of this man and that which had transpired between them. Such was his reserve that Stark took his hand and let him to a stone bench under an oak tree, sitting him down as though for a lovers tryst. “Loki…” he spoke in soft tones.

Oh how his name rang on those lips! Never had he heard before such authenticity in his name!

“I was rough with you when first we met, but even you must be aware that your behavior was most unscrupulous.” Stark said with hard eyes. “I would not punish you now when you have already been well chastised for your action. I do believe that each day affords a new opportunity to everyone. What is in the past, once acknowledge and treated accordingly, should not be carried over. The debts of a man’s morality should be settled and then erased as though having never occurred.” He theorized as they watched one another. “And yet I sense in you a great unease. I believe you have a reputation among your peers as something of an infamous hooligan.” Starks voice carried no contempt, but rather the potential for amusement. “Perhaps you fear I have learned of your hooliganism and have come to punish you for each individual misdeed?”

“Do not!” Loki did jerk away, yet when the hand reached for him and pulled the well-dressed youth close, he struggled but for a moment in stronger arms.

“I know such as you, Little Prince. I have met you before in the mirror of my youth. And though it will make little sense now as you squirm in fear of reproach, I will tell you a secret which took me many a year to learn.” His hand found the small of Loki’s back and gained purchase there, forbidding him to pull away as hot breath flicked against his aquiline neck. “You crave punishments for your misdeeds.”

“You know nothing. What manner of fool would wish for such things? Not I!” Loki did insisted in foul temperament.

“What fool would wish them for the forgiveness that comes from confession? Or for the lightness of the soul when they have offered themselves up to the whip for their crimes?” Stark postulated most eloquently. “The punishment itself is but a fraction of what is needed to reprimand such as you. For you also crave the exclusivity of attention that comes from close contact with one who would see you reborn from the anguish. You desire to have but one person see you for what you might be, as oppose to what all now know you for. A base trickster and a scoundrel in your fathers hall.”

“You, sir are little better! Accosting young men upon the highway. Running them till their legs are like stones for your private amusement! How noble and commendable would you call yourself if you were pressed to such lengths, treacherous ruffian!” Loki did not heed his own inner warnings not to speak as such. Nor did he absorb the truth of this well meant lecture.

“It is clear that you shall require a more lengthy tutelage under my care, Little Prince.” Stark did speak with stern intention. “But this is not wholly unexpected. Never have I seen prize stallion broke in but one evening. Nor would I expect one with so great a heritage to bow to the yoke with but a few bruises to show for it.” He took hold of the long hair with a hand and again Loki was made to cross his lap. “The crop may sing to loudly and draw attention.” He warned. “Thus so too will your voice if you cry out. And I think still your pride too great to willingly submit to humiliation in their eyes.”

“Do not!” Loki struggled in the grip of a greater man, kicking as much as he dared. He was well restrained, the force of Stark’s hand against his scalp holding him with but enough tension to reign him in at will. “As his trousers were again lowered and his roundness made bare, he began to feel the seize of fear in his chest. “Please! I cry pardon on you good sir!”

“The time for that was before, when I did try to explain to you the precariousness of your chosen plight.” Stark did not choose the crop, but held it in front of Loki’s mouth. “Bite, and be grateful.” He warned, for it would keep his cries muffled from the crowd. The youth had but little choice. He knew himself not strong enough to pry free, nor did he wish the commotion of being noticed. Yet if Loki had though Stark’s hands to be kinder then the crop, he was sorely mistaken in his judgments. The first unkind blow sent him reeling and his flesh did strike so prettily. Again and again the palm fell to him, and the resounding smack gave him cause for fear. His face looked forever towards the light of the house, his paranoia convincing him that voices were coming closer.

He could find not the wit to count any more than he had last time, but each strike hit ever so much deeper into his pride. Loki’s flesh did redden and glow and heat him in the night air before Anthony Stark was done with him. Two hundred times did the strong, well-muscled arm fall to meet his will’s capricious nature. And though in his mind he railed against it, his body did seem to be most flirtatious in its reaction.

His rise did not go unnoticed by his tormentor, who treated it with no more than a knowing chuckle and a soft stroking against Loki’s hair. He did not halt to pay it heed, but kept striking as the cheeks turned the color of apples in summer and Loki began to see his own tears drop onto the grey pebbles of the garden pathway.

It was then that Loki’s head did jerk to attention with clear fear. “Sir…good sir I beg of you to stop.” He said with panicked inflection.

“And why then should I do so? You seem no less chastened then you did but a moment ago.” Stark argued, but the lilt of his voice spoke with more candor. Someone was walking along the path. Two someone’s, by the differing cadence of their voice. And in minuets they would round the hedges and see this tawdry scene of punishment and debauchery.

“Please sir!” Loki gave a grave whisper. “Please I shall do as you ask! Do not let me be seen this way!” he pleaded with such a lovely tone that Stark did relent.

‘You wish not to be discovered, though I think the humility might do you good.” The man stood before him, letting Loki slide to the gravel easily. When then young man made to stand, the sir did halt him as he calmly took the crop and walked six paces away from the exposed young lord. “You wish to keep your pride before this rabble?”

“Yes sir! Please sir they are near!” he could hear the ribald laughter of a man and woman now, speaking privately. Panic set into his features he turned his green eyes to the man who not more than two weeks before had been a stranger to him.

“Crawl then to me, Little Prince. Adjust not your trousers nor your position. Crawl then to me and kiss the shine of my boot with loving affection.”

What choice could there be. Across the gravel, black trousers around his ankles, Loki did crawl. The rocks bit into the palms of his hands and the bone of his knees as he made his way across the path. He sniffled meekly as he was met with Stark’s calf and bent low, his lips pressed to the glistening black shine of the boot as though in supplication of a king. Where in the concept came to mind he might never know, but though it had not been asked of him, Loki did kiss it twice more, his tongue flicking out to wipe a fallen tear from the leather. “Sir…” he begged one last time.

Stark did take hold of him with swift attention and straighten his state of clothing. He lifted the trousers and dusted off the dirt with a handkerchief of lace and cotton. He folded it neatly, placing it in the breast pocket as Loki’s had gone lost somewhere in the struggle. With reassuring hands he adjusted the youth’s lapel and smoothed his hair as the crunch of feet on the path way said that their guests would soon arrive. Before they did however, Stark did take a chance upon their time. He reached for Loki’s face, now cleared of tears though still quite pink, and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

Never had so brief a touch of unparted mouths been so intimate and wanting of more. So greatly so did it inflame Loki’s senses that his gasp of desperation was not missed by the canny Stark. “Later, Little Prince.” He gave his whispered promise.

It was Thor and the Lady Sif who did round the verge, locked arm in arm as though a fit match already had been made. “Well ventured, brother.” Thor called in greeting. “And to you as well lord Stark. How do you find the gardens this evening?”

“Most expansive! I am afraid I might have lost my way in them, so I did think to impose upon you dear brother as a gudie.” He gestured then to Loki, who could merely nod in response.

“Really? Why that is so unlike him to be of such good help! Normally you would find my younger sibling leading you further into the mists.” The two men laughed together and Loki managed a distant smile so as to not seem displaced.

“And who would be this gracing beauty I do see before me?” Stark said with an elegant bow and offered his hands. He did not propose so gross an impropriety as to take it, but did wait for her to extend her palm into his.

“I am the Lady Sif.” She explained, waiting not to be introduced. “But to call me lady may be a step to forward. Many here think me less a proper dame as I would prefer the needle of a fencing scabbard to that of a cross stitch.”

Thor shook his head with grand humor. “Many here in Asgardshire find her inappropriate in her amusements. But I do find it thrilling to speak with a woman on something other than the high cost of lace.”

“Meet me on the sparring ring and I shall give you a great deal to wag your tongue over.” She did invite most flirtatiously and the two smiled at one another with such new-found adoration that it was infectious. Stark chuckled with amusement and turned to Loki, gazing at him with something close to affection.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains non consensual intercourse. Please do bare in mind that this is a thematic work exploring the Victorian concepts of bdsm and sex. It is a FANTASY work. Do not take this in any way shape or form as to how real life bdsm is or should be conducted.

It was many days later when Odin and Frigga did call their son to the study, an air of ominous intention hung thick as miasma. His thoughts had been quite preoccupied as of late, and though his father was well known for entertaining guests, there was one in particular who had not graced the halls since the day of the spring festival. So it did then come as some surprise when he opened the doors to see the lord Stark sitting in a chair, enjoying a calming cup of jasmine tea with honey.

“Loki, you do remember Mr. Stark from the ball?” Frigga said smoothly, smiling up at her son.

“I do indeed.” Loki managed with great aplomb, though in truth the very site of him was an instigation to his corporal being. “I was not aware Americans enjoyed the fine distinction of tea time.” He could not help his words, though he felt a penance would be sure to come should he step too far.

Stark did not seem troubled by his observation. “In truth I do rarely have time for it back in the states. So it is something of a blessing that your family would make time for a beleaguered business man such as myself. And my compliments to your house chef Lord Odin. These cookies are fantastic.”

The quiet banter of social graced never did hold much interest for Loki, and yet how he hung of every word from Stark’s fine lips. Each twitch and movement of them brought back the thought of the garden and their latest encounter, so rudely interrupted by Thor. How his mind had lingered inappropriately on those few seconds where their lips had been pressed. How confusing it had been to awaken in his own bed and still taste the scent of Anthony Stark under his nose.

And did he miss see or did Stark’s eyes wait upon his for but a second longer than others as he stirred his tea? Did those long eyelashes bat at him in exclusion? What then was this strangeness between them? And did he dare wish it gone or fear it’s placement.

“Did you not hear me, son?” the voice of his father did rouse Loki back into the moment, insisting upon his attendance.

His eyes did wander to his father’s stern face, looking at him in curiosity. “Forgive me, father. My mind did wander.”

“And you see now the trouble.” Odin did speak to Stark with a beleaguered sighed. “His mind is never in the moment. Or when it is it is melded to mischief and sever misdoings.” He threw his hands up, at a loss for any sufficient reason behind it.

“My husband speaks out of concern for our sons future, but his worry does overcome Loki’s finer points.” Frigga defended. “He is a brilliant boy, with much artistry and cleverness to him.” She smiled to give her son greater comfort and took his hand lovingly. “But we do wish it to be better tempered. And it is to this purpose that we come to you. Your name was recommended to us by our dear friends…”

“Rogers. Yes he and I are well acquainted. I did meet him when I was in boarding school. I do not hesitate to say, the good prince did teach me much of what I know.” Stark took a long sip of the tea and nodded pleasantly.

“I do not take your meaning.” Loki said warily. He did so resent being spoken of as though he was not in the room but rather overhearing the conversation. His lip curled a little at this disregard for himself.

Odin stepped forward but so too did Stark. “Allow me, if I may my lord.” Stark stood at Odin’s nod and approached Loki amiably. “While most would know me as a business man and, yes I am well aware, among the _nouveau riche_ …” and at this admittance a wry chuckle was shared. “…I do put it upon myself to remind others from when I came. I was not born to the life of wealth and privilege. It was earned by my father, the late Howard Stark. He did so wish me to understand that such grandeur is not in fact a right, but something which must be earned. Because of this, I have a unique perspective into that which you were born. I grasp that which many young, well-endowed lords of your age have skipped over. Not due to lack of breeding, but rather lack of available education.” He placed a friendly hand on Loki’s shoulder. “And so, I do take it as a person charge to…reform…the education of those found in need. I take on but one student, and only then upon introspection of their situation and standing. Your parents approached me and I do believe you in desperate need of my tutelage.”

Loki did have to take a moment and step back, unsure of what he had just been told. “I…I do not understand. Father I…” he looked to Odin, but the white bearded face that met him was stony. “Mother…”

“It is for the best, my son.” She explained. “Mr. Stark has taken in others sons of your status. He comes well recommended. And they do so return to their families well educated, in much better countenance and greatly enhanced temperament.”

“And is my temperament so foul and displeasing to my family that you would sell me to this man? This stranger whom we barely know!” His fury boiled through, only made more volatile but the realization of what might soon come. “You would abandon me?”

Frigga came to her feet. “We would never!” she took Loki’s hands. “You are not being abandoned. Stark’s manor home is but a two day ride from here. We shall come and visit often as your education progresses.” She promised and caressed his face with clear intent to comfort. Her smile faded a little. “But to be truthful with you, we both know the reason for your behavior as of late.”

“Did you think us so blind as to your transgressions?” Odin coughed and poured himself a new cup of tea, waving off the butler who came to help him.

“And what transgression would that be, dear father. Aside from frogs and snakes and boyish humor?” He spat viciously, not now caring that he saw Stark’s eyebrow rise. He was marking this in his mind now, everything from here on out would be tallied.

“Boyish humor? What of the woman two years ago? The one who came to us with a swollen belly and claimed you as the father? How much did we have to pay from the coffers to keep that quiet” he waved Frigga off as she silently asked for his silence on private family matters in front of Stark. Odin cared little. “What does it matter? Half the county knows as it is. Why should the American not see the truth of our situation of he is to take charge of the boy?”

“I shall be given over to the charge of no one!” Loki insisted loudly, making the servants jump. Fear and betrayal emptied out into his soul and he felt the weighted burn of it. “You did not even let me see her. You shunted her from Asgardshire within a fortnight, pockets full. I was not even given the opportunity to see for myself what might have been mine.”

“Have you forgotten your place?” Odin railed. “That you would accept a base born child into the puissant family of Odin?” he pointed to the shield, two ravens astride a spear set on red and gold. “And then what? Your nights of drunken debauchery and property damage? Tearing through the fields on an unbroken stallion till the crops were torn up?” The patriarch of the family was at a loss. “What choices you would make if you would be head of this family?”

“Oh but what chance is there of that when you do have my golden brother to rely upon?” Loki spat back and Frigga held him.

“Silence to you both!” She shouted and then begged indulgence from Stark with her brilliant eyes. Stark did himself great favor by nodding as though he had expected this. “We are in need most dire.” She said then softly and looked too Loki.

“I will do what I can. There is much at play here. But take comfort that this is far from the worst rich brattling I have ever encountered.” Stark shrugged as if it was of no great consequence. “It will do all in the family good, I think, to have a holiday from one another. You spoke that Thor would be spending the summer in Edinburgh.” When Odin nodded with exasperation, Stark pursed his lips. “I usually do not take on a student for less than a year. But as there is great concern, I offer then you this.” He opened his hands in a giving gesture. “I will take Loki from now until the date of his brothers return in August.”

“Six months?” Loki backed away at this startling discovery. “You would banish me for six months from my own hearth? To him?” But of course they could not understand the inflection with which this carried. There was no doubt in his mind that neither Odin nor Frigga could possibly know what had transpired, nor what was sure to continue.

“Hush now! Lord Stark is a well accounted gentleman, with experience in wrangling ill mannered youths such as yourself.” Odin postulated with a warning. “And more to the point, my son, consider then this. You will cleave to Stark and take his lessons to heart. Should I hear but one act of sedition attached to your name…” he blustered with doubt, as though unwilling to continue. Yet he did. “I shall disinherited you!”

Stark bowed his head. Clearly even he had not expected such a development.

“Odin be reasonable!” Frigga quelled.

“I shall draw up the papers and have them kept on my desk till you return to us, much improved by your experiences at the hand of Stark!” Odin vowed, setting down his tea cup with a disreputable clink. “And should I find your character lacking I will sign it with fresh ink and have it taken to the lawyers!” Done with his drama, Odin chuffed the last word with a vein about to burst in his forehead and turned to leave the room. “Prepare my sons belongings!”

Frigga did not follow him but instead stood between Loki and Stark, looking at neither man but containing a mother’s grief. “It is but half a year.” She said to her dear pale son. “And we shall visit. I swear this to you.”

“My lady, forgive my impertinence…” Stark answered her troubled brow. “But while I would welcome your presence in my manor at the slightest whim, I think it best if Odin and his son are parted for a time. A bauble shines the brightest when it had not been seen for some time. Thus may your sons virtues, of which I am sure there are, might seem more visible if he is not faced with his flaws on a continued basis.”

Frigga gave a sad smile. “Your words are wise, Lord Stark.” She nodded. “Very well. Loki, my boy, say your good-byes. You will leave in the morning for Stark’s manor.”

“Mother?”

“Please!” she bit her bottom lip. “Do not make this more painful, for my sake.”

And then they were left alone the two of them. The sure, calm smile of Anthony Stark marked on Loki’s face. He took another sip of tea, finishing the cup, and then set it down without a noise on the saucer, walking from the room with not a word as the dejected youth.

***

“Six months!” Thor roared as Loki did pack his personal belongings. “This is a jest! Surely you are mistaken.” His voice was full of concern and brotherly devotion, and it did help Loki in his heart to feel someone did wish to fight for him here.

“Father did make it plain to me that my position in his household was dependent upon my good conduct.” He shoved his favorite waist coat, the one with the green and gold brocade into the suitcase and slammed the lid shut. “I am bound by this…”

“And since when as Loki ever allowed himself to be so bound?” Thor argued. “I will speak to father on this matter. Tarry but a day, perhaps two and all shall be resolved.”

“Nay good brother I…” Loki did hesitate to say so, but still it weighed on his mind. “Perhaps I do speak from such discomforting discourse, but this may be for the best. Father and I are in dire straits with one another. He did not even speak to me at breakfast this morning.” He handed the suitcase to the butler, who bowed, clicked his heels and left with it. “Perhaps it will do me some good not to look upon his face for but a half a year.”

“And what of mother’s face? What of mine?” Thor said and took his brothers by the shoulders in a bracing hug. “What of drinking in the taverns and the fox hunts? What of playing cards together at midnight and filching father’s good cigars and brandy?”

Loki could not help himself. Though Thor could be an oaf and a fool, he was still a dear held brother, who had never yet betrayed him. He could help being first born, and at times, Loki did know the burden of responsibility weighed on those broad, striking shoulders. “We will share these times again, this I swear.” He promised and returned the embrace. “Stark has said mother may visit as she will, perchance you might come as well.” He said with faint hope.

“I shall ensure of it.” His golden brother promised. “Please be careful. I can not place my finger upon it, and though all would call Stark a fair and even handed man, I feel a sense of…threat from him. An indescribable sensation of control, like an iron fist in a silken glove.”

The younger brother could say nothing to this. He had forbidden himself to think too much on it though the night. But now, as he descended the stair case and saw Anthony Stark bidding his mother a fond farewell and his father a polite reassurance of his sons safety, the freshest of memories came unbidden. His body bent over Stark’s knees, exposed and helpless as the man beat him most severely about the buttocks. And then the humiliation of not only having risen to such an occasion, but to have it ignored as though it were no consequence to the lordly Stark!

He tried to hide his pink cheeked embarrassment.

A brief hug was all he was permitted to his mother, and a fierce stare to instill some last reminder of what lay at stake for his future from lord Odin. He returned it with vigor and no small look of turbulence. Stark took his gloves, cap and cane from the butler and opened the door for Loki as though he were the gentleman and the young lord a lady. The smile did not go unmissed and Loki flared internally at his new master.

They rode for nearly half a day not speaking in Starks private carriage. Even Loki had to admit himself impressed by the subtle grandeur of it, the Stark shield, a circle within a circle, the core of it studded with a blue sapphire that seemed to glow in the early morning light, was above them on the ceiling and Loki made a show of staring at it in order not to speak to Stark.

But oh what a bundle of nerves he was! He picked at the lining of the ceiling like a bored boy and stared out the window for fear that Stark might see his trepidation. And yet the American lord seemed to make no mark of him, indulging himself in a small pocketbook and constantly writing little notes in the margins from behind dark eyeglasses. They passed through village and town till twas time to stop for the night. Loki did not know what he expected, but he was surprised to be permitted a quiet meal of spare, civil conversation between the two of them. They shared a pint of lager, but no more, till at last the men were lead to their separate rooms and Stark gave a sly smile full of wicked intention.

“Tomorrow.” He said with an air of promise.

Loki tossed and turned through the night, a quiver at what would come at dawn.

They took the carriage again until nearly noon, when suddenly Stark knocked the wooden door outside the window and the carriage driver pulled up to a stop. “We shall be riding the rest of the way.”

“Shall we?” Loki said, with little concern in his voice. As he looked outside, they were along the road, but far from even a small village. Much of what was here was wooded area, perhaps a farm in the distance.

“We shall.” Stark nodded and instructed the carriage driver to unhook the first two horses for their use. It was all finished within a half an hour and the carriage was sent ahead with their belongings. When the dust died down, Stark took hold of the horses reins and looked at Loki. “Shall I have to be strict with you now, Little Prince?” he said with a grin Loki had not seen since the party. “Or will you obey willingly enough for the moment?”

Loki could not help but show resistance. He would not spend six months in such dread! “I will not. What you mean to do with me I think I now well know…”

“Yes. Yes indeed you do _think_ you know.” Stark reached forward and took hold of Loki’s lapel firmly. “But I shall promise you yet that I have such lessons to teach you as you cannot conceive of.” His face was of such countenance to imply much and Loki crossed his arms to be rid of the hand upon him. But Stark did not relent. He turned Loki’s back to him, coming close to the youth and holding his arms fast. “I think you need these lessons, Little Prince.”

“Do not call me that! You have no right to speak to me as such!” Loki shoved himself away, stumbling back through the knobby grass. “I am not here to be your plaything. I am at your mercy due to my fathers will. But do not assume I will bow to you as though I were a simple minded fool!” He tried to stand strong as Stark laid hands on his own hips and seemed to find his battle stance of great amusement. “I will not be your pet!”

“But why, Little Prince. When it is but so very clear that this is your desire?” He did give a light hearted laugh and came again forward to kneel him. And though Loki did defend himself with all his might, it was not enough. The young lord did try so valiantly to defend himself. And they tussled on the ground, dirtying their cloth. But Stark was older and wiser and Loki was outmatched. He was overcome by the man, face pressed to the dirt as he did struggle and rage for his injured pride. Stark would not bring him pain more than was needed. Yet still, there was work to be done, and he had not taken on the youth with the intention of failing at his charge.

He did bind Loki’s wrists well once more and made good use of the crop to whip him across the field. “I see in you’re a fiery passion, Little Prince. And it does make you very admirable.” Stark commented as they came to a tree with a thick, overhanging branch. He tossed the rope around it and pulled tight, stringing up the younger man with great force until his toe did barely touch the ground. “And I would not remove this fire from you, for fire makes iron into well forced weaponry. But it must be tempered, controlled and contained, else it rages of no use to anyone.” And he took from his pocket a dirk no longer then his thumb.

Loki did blanch at the sight of it and his eyes pleaded mercy. But Stark laughed as he brandished it. “I see your fear. But I will not such do harm to your flesh. Not now, nor ever.” He took the blade and oh so carefully cut through the fine cloth of the grey and silk traveling coat. He did slice along the stitches so that it might be repaired anew. Loki could do little as he watched his waistcoat and button-down follow suit, his chest made bare. Next then came his boots and socks. His trousers lay in the dirt and Stark did tie them up into a neat bundle and set them on a tree stump.

“I grow tired of these games.” Loki spoke with great bravado as the crop was taken out.

“As you may. But I promise when we spoke first in the meadow and then later in your father’s house, the rules were quite different. For six turns of the moon you are mine, and I mean to make good use of you, Little Prince.” Stark then took the tip of the crop and lifted Loki’s chin high and proud. He moved it with great flourish across the skin, stroking the leather across the young man’s nakedness till small bumps appeared. He then did hold the crop to his lips and kiss it, thoroughly enjoying the site. “I was given you to instill order and discipline in that wayward mind, and so I shall.”

And he did whip Loki most wickedly. And in truth he did not deny even to himself the enjoyment he took in watching the fury and pride slowly dissolve under the leather attention. It was made all the prettier as he hung and jerked, trying to avoid his blows. Stark was well aimed and did strike nowhere but the buttocks and thighs, leaving many red stripes and welts. It took the whistling sting of this over many times to bring Loki finally to tears, and Stark did nod his satisfaction.

“Must we continue this?” Stark said and touched Loki’s cheek sweetly. “Shall I be forced to make that pretty face weep whenever I need invoke my will over your own?” And such hatred and fury did Loki stare back at him that Stark was forced to bring down such justice again. Loki’s wail was a lovely song that echoed in the glen, and Stark refused lenience until he could see many red, thick welts striped down Loki’s buttocks and thighs. He did sigh, whether from satisfaction or disappointment, Loki could not infer.

And then his hands did touch against the soreness and Loki sobbed aloud. “Please sir!” he did plead as the pain shot through him in terrible awareness.

“Sir. Sir. Sir. And Sir again.” Stark whispered lovingly in his ear. “Why is it then that you use this term only when I have forced it from your lips?” He kissed the back of Loki’s neck, his lips warm and comforting. “You shall call me Sir now and always I think, when speech you are allowed.” He insisted upon as his finger split the cleft of Loki’s bottom.

Loki did startle. “Please! Do not sir I beg of you!” he pleaded but Stark paid him little mind. The fingers did unman him swiftly, pressing into his most secret of places. He had risen in the anguish of the whipping, his body exposed and so pleasingly viewed. And his frame refused not the kind attention now given into it.

“You may be made to beg many times, Little Prince. But today I mean to take my pleasure from you. It will be I think, the first time for you, and so I shall show my gentility. But it will not be the last, and you will grow to adore this affection.” Stark kissed him again, now on the lips and their tongues did caress. His hands did work with great skill against bottom and cock, and Loki was given little choice but to leak his pleasure in Stark’s favor. “Would you have more of me?”

Loki scrunched into himself, both in trepidation and shame. Yes. Yes indeed he did wish for more. But even in his sheltered life as the son of Lord Odin, he did know what this meant. He had heard it in the taverns of ill repute. And to think of being so split did frighten him and he wept again, shaking his head in acknowledgement.

“Hush now, Little Prince.” Stark whispered and opened the globes of his ass to view. He spat upon his hand and used it to slicken his own manhood well. “Relax your body and make this ache but a little less.” He warned.

And the cock did undo him. And Stark took his luxury well. Loki had, as most young men will, tumbled the lasses of ill repute in tavern houses and inns. And he did make such sport of it as to shame his father’s name. Thor did know not of his brother’s misdeeds, for he strove always to heighten the name of Odinson and did not indulge in the more carnal pleasures.

And yet for this Loki had never conceived of a man against him! It did fill him so deeply and stretch him in such ways as to heighten his need. And though he would not have done so were he able to think, he did in due course bring his hips back to let Stark take him with great fervor.

It was agony and ecstasy, and Loki knew not which he liked more.

When warmth coated the inside of his body and his own dropped from his limp shaft, Stark pulled out. It did leave the young lord with a most empty sensation. Stark did let young Loki hang there a moment while he cleaned himself and righted his clothing. He did not know it, but had Loki a bit more courage and a great deal less pride, he might have pleaded for such lewd contact again. Then Stark took a cloth and cleaned his seed from the young lord’s cheeks. He took oil and rubbed it into the welts, soothing them and numbing the red anger.

Loki would not look at him.

“What shames you, Little Prince?” Stark spoke to him. “That you have been so used in an open field where any passerby might have seen this? Or that you took such pleasure in it you lost yourself with nary a touch?” he took the whiteness spread across Loki’s stomach upon his fingers and licked it most wickedly, stunning the youth. This was the first acknowledgement of his own pleasure from Lord Stark, and he was disgraced by it.

He was permitted his boots and Stark bound his arms neatly behind his back, attaching his clothing bundle to his shoulders so that he might carry it as a pack animal. One horse was sent ahead of them and then Stark mounted his own and they marched through the back trails, avoiding the roads. Loki had little resistance in him now. He was bruised and used and there was no end in sight. He did jog without being commanded to do so, if only to stay ahead of the horse and avoid having to see the winning smile on his master’s face.

He was made to canter and trot in spurts, and if Stark was of a mind he did make him run at a quickened pace. It was a lucky thing that this was in spring, for the air was cool and he was not so terribly harassed by heat. If he did slow in his gait, Stark would lay down the whip against his rear, stinging the welts there and chuckling if he did cry out.

Near evening they did come to a great meadow, and over it Loki could see lights in a fine manor house. The command came from behind him. “Gallop.” And he was made to run at his quickest pace. The horse broke into a light canter and Loki was harried to keep up with it, desperate not to stumble for fear of the punishment it would bring.

Oh but could he know how Stark did admire the ebony tresses flung out so fair behind him? How the setting sun did cast a deep and charming pallet over his pale flesh! The man did sigh with wistful lust over his charges beauty and felt a pressing need in his loins to share what they had done again so recently. But he did keep control over his impulses. How could he expect to teach this willful youth self-discipline if he could have none for himself?

They did arrive at the great brass gate and again the wealth of the Stark household was made obvious to him as it did open. He balked to see a man standing there, a placid smile on his charming face. It did humiliate him to have another human see him in this state, but the fellow was dressed in butler garb and did pay him little mind until Stark dismounted the horse.

“A new acquisition I see, sir. Shall we have him taken to the house?” he said in a formal and well trained tones.

“I am afraid not, Jarvis. This young colt needs to be broken before he is fit to enter my house.” Stark did answer and pulled Loki around.

“Ah, a place in the stables then? I shall have a stall cleaned for him.” The butler Jarvis strode forward and smiled directly at Loki, reaching his gloved hand up and inspecting his face. He chuckled under his breath to see the young lord toss and bucked back, much like an untamed mare. “He is a fine one I see. You may have trouble with him, sir.”

Stark nodded. “I expect this. See to your duties.” He waved the servant off and gave Loki a sharp tap with his crop. “Forward now. You are well lathered and in need of a bath.”

He was taken to an open wash house, the floor strewn with fresh straw and smelling of clear air. It was obviously not intended for livestock. Stark moved him forward onto a brass covered drain and pointed to a brass ring hanging above him. "When I do release you, you are to grab the ring and hold tight, Little Prince. Shall you give me trouble over this?” Loki did not speak, but shook his head no and did obey prettily when his arms were unbound. Oh how he did holler to feel his limbs stretched! Stark shushed him gently and rubbed his sore muscles. He took then a bucket and brought hot water and soap, taking his time to wash off the sweat and dirt himself. His hands did make intimate contact several time, and yet he did treat this as a mundane task.

“Now I would have you stay silent and listen to my words, Little Prince. You have had much removed from you in but a few short days, and I know this does weigh greatly on you. But now you are taken from that and brought to my care. And do not ever mistake that I shall care for you.” Stark insisted with sincerity. “But you should be made aware that I have rules for this household. Rules which I mean to have obeyed.” Stark lifted his head and made the green eyes look into his for the first time since he had ravished Loki. “Do you understand me?”

Loki did nod and Stark continued his speech. “Rule One: You have no title here. No birthright, no privilege. You will get only what you earn for yourself through progression in my tutelage. You are better than no one in this house and subservient to even the most menial of laborers. Should Jarvis give you an order, you shall leap to obey it.” And it did slash at his pride to hear he might be made to obey a butler, but Stark took no notice. “Rule Two: You are to speak only when spoke to, and then to respond with brevity and politeness. Address all as Sir or Madam respectively and do not look them in the eyes unless called to do so. Rule Three: If there is indeed a need to speak, which you should weigh carefully before deciding to do so, you will take your tongue and lap tenderly at the back of your Sir’s hand. If I lift your chin, you may speak. If I pat your head, then you must hold till I do give permission.”

How it burned in his gut! How it rankled him to hear this! How he fumed and grit his teeth and trembled with anger so renewed at this information. Loki did try to hold his temper as the laws of this were explained to him.

“Rule Four: Your body belongs to me. You have through your misdeed forfeited your rights to self-sufficiency and independence. I instruct you in everything now. I ensure your actions are productive.” And at this Stark held his hair back, establishing that there could be no misunderstanding. “Show me progress, cleave and be willing, and you will be well rewarded. Balk, rebel, incite, and I will bring down my wrath on you.” He grasped the sore bottom meaningfully. “And, should you believe for a moment that a sore and blistered ass is the worst which might befall you at my hand, I do promise you wrong.”

Stark took then a horsehair brush and began to scrub. Loki grit his teeth and did try to manage against it, but dear the scratching and strange pulling of his flesh! It rubbed and irritated his skin, but Stark showed no mercy. And when he did arrive at the red and welted buttocks, Loki could not help himself! He kicked and hollered, tossing his head and losing his grip on the ring. His master gave a small smile and invoked no punishment for this. He rinsed the young man and began to wash his hair, ensuring that it retained its glossy shine he did now favor so fondly. “There are other rules, smaller. But for now I believe you have been given enough for one night.”

“Enough? Enough?” Loki did roar with rage. He did feel so raw and ill-treated that he held this man in contempt. “To hell with your enough! What know you of me, sir?” he did spit the last word angrily. “What know you of my plight? Of my mind and means? I am Loki Odinson! I am a lord in my own right and…”

“Not a lord in mine!” Stark’s anger was palpable. “You are an arrogant, whining puppy, yapping at the gates and growling from behind the heels of your father! You do ill deeds to garner attention and make a hobby of selfish practices!”

“And you would accuse me? You who would ravish me along the roadside like a common whore!” Loki did let his vipers tongue fly most freely, though his mind would warn him that this would bring him not but strife.

“You mistake your place, Little Prince.” Stark said with no pity in him and greater perception. “A whore is paid for their time. Your time now belongs to me.”

Loki did scream out and bring his claws to the fight, but again he found himself no match for the lord Stark. And yet though he was again captures, still Stark would not do him grave injury. He did but restrain him, taking again the rope and the brass hoop together. Loki found himself bound in short order much as he had been upon the tree, unable to move or do much but tip-toes about on the straw. Stark did heave a great sigh as their battle ended. “I think you to be a challenge, Little Prince. But I am a man who does enjoy such entertainments. Your strength and your pride are endearing, this I will not deny. But again you have no self-control. So shall I endeavor to teach it to you.”

And from the shelf he took a horse bit covered in soft leather and forced it into the mouth of Loki, restraining it back till it pulled the corners of his lips taunt and exposed his white teeth. His tongue was pressed down, unable to stop the flow of saliva and it did quickly trickle down his chin, much to Loki’s misery. Stark then took out a jar from the same shelf and opened it, a menthol smell permeating the air. The welts and soreness was still fresh and irritated by the horse hair scrubbing, and as Stark put the gel onto it, no comfort was to be found.

Loki hollered through the bit to be so burned and tingled! He jerked and tossed but Stark would show no halt until each lash was coated with the substance. “A new coat shall be applied every two hours until dawn.” He said firmly. “Remember the rules of this household and learn them well. For tomorrow begins your penance, Little Prince.”


	4. Chapter Four

Loki was to discover that when Stark did give his word, he did keep it. His manservant Jarvis did come once every two hours with the burning salve and applied it with careful hands to his sores. He did wait patiently when Loki reacted, whimpering and jerking. When the temperature became cold he ensured that a fire was heated in a near hearth so that Loki would not catch chill. And never did the introspective smile leave his face. Nor did he give much voice, unless it was but a small command for Loki to move in one way or another so that he might be better accommodated. He gave no mockery of Loki’s position nor did he seem inclined to take advantage of it. He was merely there to step in and assist in the training process, as much to be of service of Loki as to his own master.

It was in the wee hours of the morning, when the birds began to chirp, that Jarvis did release him down to the ground. “If you would, Little Prince, the master has said that you may take a few hours rest before the work day starts, provided you can show your contrition is real.”

He had little energy left and had dozed off and on as his position would allow. But always the soreness of his limbs and the strange concoction that had been smeared on his wounds would bring him to blistering awareness. Loki down bow low on the ground and kiss the polished shoes of the butler, though his pride did sneer at him. He did not care. In this moment what he longed for most was sleep. Jarvis again gave him that maddeningly calm smile and gestures. “This way please, Little Prince.” He took hold of Loki’s hair firmly, but not unkindly, and led him as one might a stray pup to the stables.

Again it was made clear to him that the horses Stark must own were not kept here. It was a small stable with but four stalls and immaculately clean. Fresh rushes had been spread in each stall and a central heart did keep everything warm and gently lit. Jarvis did take Loki to a stall and bring down a small metal collar to his neck, attaching it around the pale and slim throat with a padlock and key, which he kept with himself. “Now then, while I am sure you are quite tired, I would wish to impart a small bit of wisdom to you.” Jarvis spoke with great eloquence. “You may speak, so long as you do keep a civil tongue. And please do be aware that any transgressions will be marked to Lord Stark when he awakens.” When Loki seemed to be paying attention he continued. “I have been Lord Starks manservant for many years. You are not the first young man he has taken under his wing. And though it may seem a great strife and agony to you now, I can make you the sincerest insurance that he will greatly improve you, if you will but let him.” He check the collar with quick, practiced moves and looked to make sure the chain was well fastened to the wall. There was enough give for Loki to lay down, but not enough for him to lift over the stall gate as it was closed and locked.

Though he did wish to lay his head and pass into the bliss of unconsciousness, a lingering question did plague his mind so that he did make a risk of it. Loki reached forward and took Jarvis’s gloved hand. He had not the energy to give rebellion now, but did obey the rule he remembered and licked the back of it. The butler did seem greatly pleased by this and lifted his chin but a bit, permitting him speech. “I ask of you, is there any way I might leave this place?” he did say in a tone most pleading.

Jarvis’s smile was not unsympathetic, but his answer was none the less learned. “As I understand it, you are not so far removed from your home estates that you would not make it. But let me illuminate the danger you may face. Putting aside that your family has threatened disinheritance should you refuse this lesson, you are still a two day travel by horse, three by foot. You have no cloth with which to cover yourself, nor would I be so inclined to provide you with any. You have no coin with which to purchase food or supplies. You would be reduced to traveling away from the roads, which would open you to the worst sort of harassment and villainy the countryside has to offer.” Jarvis shook his head. “No, Little Prince. I think it best for you to remain here. Though your tribulations have but barely begun, you re, I do promise, in safe hands.”

***

He was allowed sleep until the cock crowed, and it was then that Stark did awaken him most gently by the stroking of his hair. “Up and alive, Little Prince. There is work to be done and we are burning daylight.” Still well chastened by last night, Loki did see little purpose in resistance. Stark had brought with him a large silver tray and the young lord was curious about it. He did start to stand but at Stark’s commanding cough he laid down on hands and knees again, sinking to the wooden floor boards. The try was placed before him and Loki was suddenly aware of his own hunger. Fruits had been sliced up for him, strawberries, apples and pears, divided so that they might be consumed bite by bite. He looked up at Stark in confusion and an arched eyebrow reminded him that he was not to look anyone in the eyes. He reached out with a hand to take the food but Stark did calmly tell him “No.”

Was he to be allowed no sustenance for his hunger? A booted toe nudged the tray closer and Loki did realize that yes, he was meant to eat. Merely without the use of utensil or hand. Like a trained animal he swallowed his pride deep and bent his head lower, taking a piece of fruit in his lips and chewing it as he struggled to maintain composure. A hand caressed back his hair, showing that he had surmised correctly.

As he blushed prettily and ate his breakfast, Stark did inspect him thoroughly, much as one might a beast before their work. His hands did stroke and caress the pale flesh absently, looking it over and seeing for any laws, of which he found none. Loki did startle only once, giving a gasp and dropping a slice of pear from his lips when Stark’s hand did grip and fondle his manhood and heft as though weighing their worth. His palm squeezed firmly till Loki raised his hips and finally whimpered with resignation, and this did seem to satisfy his master. He was permitted to finish eating in peace as Stark readied his accoutrements.

Loki was then walked on all fours and told firmly to stand, which he did without complaint. He had, despite his exhaustion, listen to Jarvis’s words and was giving them due consideration. What could he do? Where could he go He did have no intention of submitting so meagerly to this, but for now it seemed best to remain silent until he could concoct a plan for his own release. Stark took soft rope and bound his arms neatly behind his back so that they might remain entangled but comfortable. He then led Loki outside the stables and the young lord’s eyes were met with a strange site. A small cart, perhaps just big enough for a miniature pony had been readied for him, the harness attached to it obviously unsuitable for a horses frame. Loki did balk and bite his lower lip, pleading silently with Stark not to let his thoughts be true.

“Hush now, Little Prince. A good day of work may bring you a bit of well deserved satisfaction.” He tapped Loki’s cheek lightly, a loving pat to ensure his control and took him forward, placing him between the elbow lines. Stark did take great care with the harness, lifting it first to set upon Loki’s shoulders and bind tightly under his armpits. Attached to this was another leather strap which was wrapped firmly about his chest, pressing into the pale skin as Loki could only stand there and close his eyes. One might not this it, but this was beyond humiliation. Merely knowing that he was being subject as a beast of burden, that he would be made to pull this yoke as though he was meant for it. His cheeks became viciously pink and he avoided Stark’s knowing gaze at each turn.

When the entire harness was well fitted, Stark checked it over, ensuring that it would not rub and chafe into the fine skin. “Well done, Little Prince.” He seemed greatly pleased by this and lifted Loki’s face. “A bit chastened today I see?” he inquired when Loki could not bring his eyes to meet Starks. “All well and good.” He kissed Loki’s lips sweetly, his tongue flirting along the rim of them as their faces did finally meet. “I think you well suited for bondage, it does agree with you.” He took then the crop and tapped the young man’s bottom very lightly, instructing him to pull forward.

The cart was light but balanced and sturdy, and so it took him but a few moments to build up strength enough to pull it. Stark lead him across the manor grounds to a small orchard of apricots glistening in the morning dew. The sun was just pulling up over the hills and there was still a light mist about the ground. “Now hear me, Little Prince. Today you begin to repay for your past transgressions. It is necessary that you do so, for the act in and of itself will cleans your spirit greatly and make you feel finer for it.” He gestured to the fields. “I do own a cider press, and it has come to me to help win over the local peoples by providing them with a generous amount of cider by midsummer. Apricots do contain a fair sweetness and will make for delicious, crisp and fair beverage in the hotter months. Your job is to follow as I do, gather fruit and cart it as you are told back to the press.” He did not wait for a nod, he did not need one. It was not up to Loki what he would be made to do.

Yet he did balk once when he saw others amongst the trees. Not those such as him but common folk, each carrying baskets and holding small cart ponies, real ones. They did see him, and he flushed brighter in fear and shame that he might be recognized. Yet they paid him terrible little mind. It did confuse him and insult him in ways he did not yet understand till a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, smiled at he and Lord Stark. “G’day my lord. I do see you’ve brought a fine young stallion to your fields.”

“I have. Though fine he may be, greater in need of education and training.” Stark commended and lead Loki forward. And the woman did pet him! Pet him with her common, coarse hands as though he were merely a horse to be so stroked! She and Stark did converse for a few moments before she again left to care for her own duties. Stark smiled at his charges indignation. “I do permit the local peoples to harvest here when they have the time. It does behoove me to be generous and in exchange they do keep much in the way of secrets for me.” He explained and took the wicker baskets to gather the fruit himself.

It did confuse Loki as to why he would do such a thing himself. Did he have not enough servants to complete the job for him? Did he not have these village folk give tithe or time in order to be allowed to pluck his harvest? That was simply not done! And yet Stark did do it. He filled basket after basket, seeming to enjoy the simple task as he smiled most contentedly. The cart grew a little heavier with each passing and by the time they had completed an aisle, it was heavy and creaking. Stark took once more the crop and snapped it firmly to Loki’s thighs. “To the cider press.” He instructed.

The way was long, or so it seemed under the heavy burden. Loki did stumble twice, his body not used to such labor and still well taxed. But Stark was not so cruel. He did help him stand and adjusted him, helping pull to get the forward motion of the cart started again. Many times he kept his hand on Loki’s shoulder, leading him where he would wish him to go. He unloaded the baskets at the cider press, then turned Loki back around to fetch more.

Four times did they do this, and each time Loki was subjected to new eyes upon him. More than once someone would stop and comment. More than once Stark was asked if they might inspect him for quality. And each time he did permit it! Loki did not realize just how charming it was to watch him agitate so gracefully in his fetters as their hands stroked and shushed him gently. He wanted to rail and scream at them, but still Stark held the crop, and he did not think he could take another bruising. And so man and woman alike was let to squeeze him inappropriately, then comment to Stark on the great quality of his charge.

They did not stop till the sun was high and it had warmed greatly. Stark did allow Loki to rest on his knees as they took lunch, unstrapping him from the cart. He took a fat, beautiful apricot and bade his Little Prince come forward as he used a small dagger to slice off pieces and feed them to Loki by hand. He was given a silver dish with water and instructed to drink all of it. And when he had finished Stark stroked his ebony locks behind his ear, tenderly giving affection as he approved of the work done thus far.

For Loki, it was the first time since yesterday he had been given a moment to think. He had spent so many hours either exhausted or too wrapped in his humility to let himself linger overmuch. But now it came to him in a tizzy of emotion. With the lord of the manor’s hands caressing him so fondly he could see clearly the way he had been pressed into and made to bend, his body subjected to the dark and perverted pleasure of another man inside him. Would Stark do this thing again? Would he be made into a concubine for his teacher’s needs? He trembled and dare not introspect his own opinion as to the possibility.

But Stark did note his nervousness and rose from his seat. “Come now. The day’s work is but half done.” He noted and again attached Loki to the cart.

When they arrived again, more people were standing in the orchard. Coarse and common folk. Folk with rough hands and rougher speech. And Stark would no doubt permit them to touch him! To fondle and see him in this debasement! He balked! He could not help it! It was too much!

“Little Prince. Little Prince!” Stark gave as warning and grabbed the halter to steady him. “Calm yourself!” he ordered strictly.

“I will not.” Loki said in a quivering voice. “I cannot do this! I cannot bare this any moment longer!” he grit his teeth hard and kicked away, his nerves flaring. “I will not be made to endure further speculation at the hands of these coarse people! I will not be preened over like a beast of the field!”

“And yet a beast you are till I say otherwise.” Stark’s voice carried a dark intention as he sought to bring Loki to heel. “Halt yourself! Show some restraint Little Prince!”

And Loki did spit in his face.

The warm brown eyes were now volcanoes of fury. “Aye then.” Stark said with a rumble in his voice. “You wish to be more than a beast of the fields? Then act better than one, Little Prince.” Loki did expect a good cropping, but when Stark removed his belt, his stomach sank. “I see now the regret in your eyes. You never do think past the insult do you? Are your actions as feckless to you as to those who would witness it?” Stark undid the harness and slung Loki forward into the dirt and mud. He grabbed then the youth’s hair and brought him forward to the cart, bending him over the back of it.

And oh how much harder the belt did fall on his tender bottom. The crop did sting, but the belt left wide red marks across his backside. Each one jolting him forward with great pain, the cart creaking and groaning as he took the wholloping to his person. Only ten strikes in and they did gather a small crowd of onlookers. Loki pressed his head down, trying not the let his face be seen, but Stark did forbid it. He lifted Loki and repositioned him relentlessly. He took the pretty head of hair and gathered it, taking a spare bit of rope and tying a strong knot to secure it. He then looped it about Loki’s bound arms and pulled till the lovely aristocratic features were displayed like a work of art to the ten or so gathered to watch this small amusement. Stark spread his thighs wide, exposing his heft and splitting his cheeks so that his pinkness was visible.

Stark did not seem to take join in this as he had done before. This was not a whipping for a bit of fond discipline and amusement. This was punishment for offense given. And he did bring his arm down with hard intention.

And he did cry. Not the soft weeping he had done before, but a full, screaming tear of water from his eyes as Stark laid into him yet again. Which did hurt worse? Which brought him lower? The strap of the leather belt breaking into his bottom and thighs, or the common rabble chuckling and clapping at his dishonor.

Stark did not stop when the tears streaked his face and the sobs permeated the air. He did not stop when Loki hollered his sorrow and begged forgiveness. He did not even stop when it deteriorated into hollow noises of anguish and despair and wailing. Only when his arm grew sore did he finally give halt and stand erect behind his charge, a bit out of breath. He pointed then to the crowd. “Each one of you may turn him to the cart today. Load him up heavy and have him bring it to the cider press, then trade off with another. If he is disobedient, do not hesitate to whip him soundly about the front of his thighs and cock. If he balks, give him no leniency. I do promise now that he is undeserving of it.”

Loki might have pleaded not to be left with this crowd alone for fear of what they might do. But he had no voice left in him, his throat so terrible raw and sore. He feared further ravishment at the hands of these common folk but they did not abuse him so. They followed as Stark had said, loading the cart so heavy it near touched the ground and forcing him to pull it back and forth. He sobbed throughout the rest of the day, so sore and strained that even when he tried not to let himself be so wrought he merely brought tears to his own eyes. And it was strange to find the common folk so sympathetic and yet unyielding. After each cartload was brought in he was given water and perhaps an affectionate pat before turned over to the next person for use.

When dusk fell, Stark did not come to bring him to the stables. Instead it was Jarvis who did wait for him at the cider press. “I see you took little note of my warnings.” He said, with the same affable smile and a tone of unsurprised resignation. “You are not to stop and find rest yet, Little Prince. Your master is greatly sored at you. He has been patient thus far and most unwilling to break you, but broken it appears you must become before he can rebuild you.” Jarvis thanked the last of the townsfolk and helped unload the cart before seeing them off.

Loki was then unstrapped from his harness and brought to the press. His arms were unbound and he would have given anything, and yet again anything twice more over to collapse. But it was not to be. The cider press was huge and for sure it would take two men to turn the wheel and bring it down. But Jarvis made it clear that he was to do this task alone. He stayed and instructed Loki on how to fulfill his task by spreading the fine layer of straw inside the box under the press and fill it with apricots. He was made to drag a large barrel under the spigot and when he balked, Jarvis was as unhesitant with the whip as his master.

And always that smile. That insufferable smile!

Layer after layer was applied, each with the straw being bent so as to keep the fruit in a neat pile. When finally it was right Jarvis nodded and attached Loki’s hands to the wheel, instructing him to push. And push he did. The contraption was so secured that as he went forward it did not brace back against him, but it was still a slow and straining effort. He was already tired to the very core of him and this did only push further. When at least the press began to construct the fruit, making juice flow freely the job only became harder. He sweated and gasped, his muscles taxed to their limit. But still Jarvis made him continue.

As midnight began to round, and the cider press was still not finished, Jarvis did attach a collar to him and the strap then to the press. “Lord Stark wishes this finished by morning. I would advise you not to be so lazy as to fall asleep. Your punishments may only grow worse from here.” He sighed and shook his head. Did all young lords behave with such headstrong suffrage? It brought pain only to themselves.

Loki made to call as Jarvis turned neatly on his heel and left him with his work, but there was no hand to lick and permit him speech. He was utterly alone and lost and he sank to his knees against the press and wept bitterly. All his life, he had never been made to work so hard. All his life he had been served, attended to and coddled. He did not dress himself in the mornings nor undress in the evenings. A manservant did this for him. He did not brush his own hair nor ensure the fine cleanliness of his nails. He had never once been made to do anything more taxing then learn the socially acceptable amusements for a man of his status. He could paint but he could not make a brush. He could play the harpsichord but had no knowledge of how to string it. He knew the best brocade and jacquard to match but had never seen the cloth made.

He had drunk cider but until this moment had no clue how labor intensive it was to produce.

Loki knew not what spurred him on. He knew not why he forced his legs to stand and pressed his hands to the wheel once more. Perhaps it was fury. Fury that he conceived of Stark not thinking he could accomplish this task alone. Perhaps it was simply that he knew punishment would come if he fail. Perhaps he merely had no other options.

But push he did.

And it was in this position, slumped over the wheel and passed out, but with a fully pressed barrel of apricot juice, that Jarvis found him. If the butler did think to take pity on him, he showed it not, though perhaps he did smile a little brighter. Loki was roused, washed and fed and put again to the fields, traded between common folk all day. He spoke not at all, nor did Jarvis give him much more beyond orders. But his eyes kept casting back to the manor house. At the end of the day he still had not seen Stark and a great hollowness came over him. He was allowed food and wash, the cider press given to him again till the moon rose high and he was allowed to sleep. The next day this was repeated, though he was spared the cider press that night and allowed a full nights rest back in his stall.

Yet still on the fourth day of his field work he did not see Stark.

Had his master given up? Was he no longer of a mind to come down and apply his lessons? Loki did in that moment feel most hopeless and bereft. Jarvis did not ill treat him, but nor was there the affectionate look or sweet tender caress of a warm hand. He did his work to Loki with efficiency and a guarded tongue. The townspeople did pat him like they might a stray cat, with amusement but no want of him. And their hands were not what he so longed for against his flesh.

On the fifth day, a determination struck him. He would not believe himself no longer worthy of attention! He had his pride. His standing! He would not let such things fall to the wayside. He took to the harness briskly and set off for the field without being let, much to Jarvis’s surprise. He took the loads to and from the cider press as quickly as he might, awaiting instruction with forward cast eyes. And when a man of his own years seemed to find him charming enough to feed a bit of bread and apple to as a mid-afternoon snack, Loki bit hesitate only look enough to look to Jarvis and see if he was so permitted. With the nod he shuddered, his own high born egotism still in place, yet bow he did to tenderly take the food from his open palm, chewing it with delicate grace.

When the final cart was taken in for the day and he was brought back to the stables, a familiar figure awaited him, smiling now with loving preference.

Stark did touch his face and stroke back his hair, pressing their foreheads together in deep affection. “Good boy.” He whispered and kissed Loki then deeply, showing his proudness of this development. “My good Little Prince.” He spoke with such adoration that Loki felt tears well up in his eyes and shook his head to be shod of them. “Let them come.” Stark bade him and watched the slow flow make his green iris shine. He let Loki loose of all bonds and washed him gently in cool water. He was sunburnt from him time in the fields and it was an angry mark on his pretty flesh. The lord of the manor took lotion and slathered it on, tending to his injuries and taking it upon himself to massage the sore and well taxed muscles. He tended to Loki as though the young man was a dear and treasured thing in his arms, and when the collar for his stall was snapped on, it was Stark who put him to bed.

***

Loki did awake late the next day, having not been roused by someone and felt a moment of panic that he might be punished for his laziness. But it was not to bed. Instead his master was sitting there, watching him with a pleasant and good humored smile on his handsome face. “You did well this week. Better than I might have though and I am well proud of you, Little Prince.” He promised with a loving pat and a kiss of depth and want. “Come now to me.”

Loki did never feel such glory as being allowed to walk without being tethered to something. Stark took him to the animal stables and mounted a fine horse, nodding at Loki to come to him. With one arm he scooped up the young man as though he were light, pressing him like a prize catch in front of him across the saddle. They took off together, Loki grasping at Stark’s leg for purchase, not realizing till they were out of site of the manor that Stark had a far more solid hold on him.

They rode for some time, taking advantage of the landscape. And it was not till they stopped that Loki saw with his own eyes a true and lovely wonder.

“These are a part of my lands here.” Stark said and gestured about. Rolling hills full of sweet grass and flowers such as daisy, dandelion and clover. A river cut through the scene and but a few trees dotted the landscape. The blue sky met only in the distance and a gentle breeze blew the clouds lazily overhead. The was spring still, but the day was warm and bright and joyful as Stark allowed him to slide down. Loki looked at him in question. Stark chuckled. “Well? Run about. Canter, gallop, enjoy this. You have earned a day of rest.” He said and trotted the horse off towards the tree by the river.

Loki could not think of what to do with himself. He looked around in confusion several times, wondering what might be expected of him. He could hear the distant chirping of birds and the echo of wind. The scent of grass and the babbling of the brook. All here was nature and silence and it was magnificent. He sank to his knees and felt the little strands of grass tickle his naked body. There was the scent of freedom in him and he suddenly took off, running like an unbridled colt over the hills. He did not run away, nor did the thought of escape ever occur to him. Loki merely reveled in the sensation of his surroundings.

Stark did watch him from under the tree. He spread a blanket he had brought with him and placed a few items on it. A basket of food, a bottle of wine, a set of silver dishes. A few pillows upon which to recline. He took his time in this and was not at all surprise when a smiling, panting Loki did finally approach him with some caution and fell to his hands and knees, emotionally given out.

Their eyes met, and again Stark was charmed by the youth. He reclined, crossing his legs neatly and patted at his thigh. Loki did not rise from his hands and knees, somehow he knew that was not wanted. Gently he crawled across the blanket, interrupting none of what had been sent out and reveled in Stark’s hand on his face and neck. He closed his eyes and for one brief instant, submitted to the bliss of it. When his eyes opened again, they pleaded for more intimate and penetrative contact. But Stark did not permit. Instead he brought Loki’s head to his thigh and bade him lay there comfortably. He stroked and petted Loki fondly, his hands scratching along the scalp, petting his back and shoulders. His fingers trailed down the soft spots of his charges body and brought a pleasant tickle with them. The sun dappled above them through the trees and Loki curled close, more contented then he had ever been in his life.

His eyes began to flutter and fade. He could not think on why he felt so tired now. But the feeling of laying against Stark and begin granted such comfort on a blanket. Of being so displaced from all he knew and given the permission to simply exist without expectation. Loki sighed and released something deep within his soul that had been kept bottled for too many years. He dozed off in the warmth and accord of his own mind.

When he awoke, a daisy chain had been tied and placed in his hair, and Stark was preparing a plate for him of fruits, vegetables, some bread and jam. He was served as he had been before and was expected to take it in his mouth. It did not burn so bad as it had to do this now, when they were alone. He was even given some of the wine lapped at it prettily, thinking it might please Stark more to see his tongue flick out. A chuckle from the master told him he was correct in his assumption.

“Do you feel well rested, Little Prince?” Stark asked and looked much pleased when Loki nodded. “Did I not keep my promise to you? A just reward for what you have learned?” Loki looked to the field and bit his lower lip as he nodded in agreement once more. “And will you tell me what you learned? Would you ask permission to speak?” he extended his hand and Loki did hesitate only a little to think on his words before licking it.

“I thought at first you did wish to break my spirit entirely, Sir.” The young lord stated. “I was beyond humiliated and I felt as though I would break. As though I could not help it. Perhaps many are right of me. Perhaps I am too proud a creature.” He coiled his knees to his chest and held them there. “But I did not wish to break so thoroughly that anything might be demanded of me. And to be strut out and shown off, to be treated as so much less than human, it made less of me than I had thought.” He turned to Stark. “And yet there was a freedom in it. After the first few days there was a contentment in not being treated as though they had any more expectation of me than a pony pulling a cart. It still stung my pride deeply, but every day a little less so. And when you finally did come to see me again, when you told me of your pride in me I…” he shuddered and cursed his own weakness for tears. “I broke in the best of all possible ways!”

Stark pulled him close into his lap and stroked along his back. “I am proud of you. But you deserve pride for your own accomplishments, not merely because of the house name given to you at birth.” He instructed simply and his tongue flicked out at Loki’s neck and shoulders, manipulating his most delicate senses. “I know what you would have me give you. I can feel the stirring of your loins under my hands and the give of your body to cleave to me.” He whispered, his tone deep and throbbing. “Would you have me thrust in you again? Would you wish to be so ravished?”

Stark’s hands found his buttocks and lifted him up, the gripping sensation driving a breathless yes from Loki.

The master stood then and let Loki kneel before him. “Ready me then. I was rough and unkempt last time. But now we have more hours to us then before.” At first he saw the confusion in Loki’s sweet face, but it was brought to surprise when Stark did grab his bulging cock under his trousers and stroke it to tent the breeches. Loki’s face of desperate embarrassment was so pretty a thing that he chuckled and wound his fingers in the hair, leading his mouth to it. Unbound from clasp and cloth, Loki was made to nuzzle the manhood under Stark’s careful instruction.

“Slow, no need to rush. Linger on the head and let your tongue be as smooth as silk.” His voice gained depth as Loki obeyed, fascinated by the reaction. The shaft was warm and salty on his tongue, and he was quick possessed by it. He did thrill at its obedience to him, how Stark’s face did strain as he took it into his lips and suckled it. Hands wrapped to his head pressed him deeper, and he did struggle to take it as he was told. When his jaw began to grow tired, Stark did just then release, putting his heat onto Loki’s face and chin as the wide, amazed eyes looked up at him.

He then took Loki in his arms and pulled the young man into his lap. His hands took the olive oil and slid the glistening liquid on his fingertips. Stark made Loki’s entry yield to him, bringing hot, blustering moans from the pretty young lord. His fingers dove deep and conquered, finding the rich treasure inside that made the penetration easier. He manipulated it with such practice and ease that Loki did quiver and shake and let his mind go blank as he rose his own manhood proudly against Stark’s abdomen.

“You must ask, Little Prince.” Stark whispered lustfully against his neck. “Ask permission when you are near your release.”

Loki could but barely nod that he had heard. It did come so quickly that he nearly could not make himself think to speak. “Please Sir! Please may I cum?”

Stark chuckled and nodded, allowing this onto his belly and letting Loki take a few breaths before lifting him high and positioning him to be so well impaled.

“Ah! Sir…please Sir be gentle!” He pleaded as he was opened and spread by the girth of it. Loki did whimper and toss his head, his body clutched tightly as Stark bit his pets lip and held him. Hard, demanding, pressing with unrelenting force into his tunnel. The oil slickened him well as Stark held no mercy at this sport. He was brought up and down, aching, pulsing, well wrung out as he leaned into the chest and gave himself into the want of it.

“Gentle? You would ask me now for gentility?” Stark gasped, giving away his own desire in this. He thrust his hips up and felt the give inside. “Forgive me, Little Prince, but I cannot.” Again and again he did pound deep and well and the young lord gasped and wailed and gave himself to such as this bliss. How Loki did scare when he had though himself abandoned by Stark! How he did long for even the slightest touch to his person! And now to be so filled! So stretched and pulled and made to bare the brunt of his cock deep! Never had he though such a wanton pleasure available.

He pulled Loki off him and pressed the youth down to the blanket. Stark took him again, harder and with great passion. He lost himself in the grunting passion. He did press much harder then he meant to and perhaps Loki did wail once or twice from the pain. But Stark had held himself tightly restrained and could hold no longer. He slid in and out of the wet hole till they both lay against one another their hunger and ache well spent.

“I think…” said Stark then, a smile on his face. “That you are ready to come into my house.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested by plumadesatada, this chapter has a bit of figging in it!
> 
> Figging involved using a bit of peeled ginger and sliding it into the anus, the citric acid burning and irritating the sensitive area horribly! It was a practice as far back as ancient Greece for all the way up through the Victorian era. It is still a lesser known BDSM practice. The more the victim tighten to try and dislodge it, the more intense and intolerable the sensation becomes! 
> 
> I'm going to hell! See you all there!

Jarvis did seem greatly pleased as Loki was lead up the steps of the manor house, bound with his hands behind his back and strutting almost as a peacock might. “Good to see your attitude much improved, Little Prince.” He nodded and turned to his lord. “Shall I ensure he is well groomed, sir?”

“Yes please, Jarvis. Mustn’t have a grubby little field pet scuffing up the marble.” And yet he did say this with such affection that Loki saw no mockery in it. “When he is finished I shall be in my study awaiting tea and cakes.”

Jarvis nodded and indicted that Loki was to follow him. He was taken to a bathing room, and did blink at the expanse and beauty of it. It was grander by far than his own, and yet so well and tastefully decorated that he could find no flaw in its design. A large marble tub as set up for him and filled with hot and steaming water. He was released from his bonds and assisted into the tub by Jarvis, who then set to his work with admirable flair. Loki was of a mind to remain submissive to this attention as he was scrubbed clean and rinsed till all trace of grass and dirt was gone from him. His hair was scrubbed till it gave grand luster and then Stark’s manservant did his nails and toes so that they might befit him as he was in truth the son of a lord.

As Loki was dried and inspected, Jarvis nodded at his handiwork and then instructed Loki to lay down upon a table to be lotioned. “The master is well pleased with you, Little Prince.” He spoke and began to rub the thick, creamy liquid into his sore skin. “Indeed even I must admit how impressed I am with your progress in so short a time. You will, I think, be well enriched into a fine young lord sooner than you think.”

Loki did reached and plead Jarvis’s hand and when it was given to him he licked the back of it in askance. Jarvis nodded, permitting him speech. “I do sense things shall be different here than they were in the fields. What shall change? How might I prepare myself for this new work?”

“An excellent question, Little Prince.” Jarvis seemed quite happy with this development. “Indeed your duties will change. As a field pet you were but expected to pull and cart, obeying the simplest orders till you did learn it was not a choice. Here there is more finesse required of you. It will be far stricter, and you will inevitably make a mess of things in the beginning. Your punishments shall also be enhanced, more artistic and creative. The master does indeed have a streak of guile and polish when it comes to this. I think you will be surprised.” He rubbed the lotion into the flesh till Loki’s muscles eased and he was limp and malleable on the table. “Stand then, Little Prince, and do place your arms behind your head. Straight and tall if you please.”

He did obey and Jarvis took him to a mirror to view himself. He was startled by his appearance. Loki had not looked at himself in some time and it felt good to know that he was still so fair and fine. Jarvis brushed his hair and oiled it, styling it into suitable limp curls about his face. The butler then did lift his chin and smile. “Very pretty. Very pretty indeed.” He seemed to speak to himself. “Now then, follow me. Do not drop your arms, and walk with pride in your step.”

There were only but a few servants who scurried about the house, and Loki was not so far submissive that he did not blush and cast his gaze downward to be so seen by them. And yet they did treat him much as the common wealth had. A knowing smile and perhaps a brief inspection of his goods. A comment to Jarvis as to any new duties that he might be involved in. Jarvis answered briefly, obviously desiring to pass Loki into his masters hands.

When he did come to the study doors, Jarvis turned then to Loki and smiled. “He awaits you.” And he opened the door, gesturing for Loki to enter.

He could see nothing for a moment, the curtains were drawn and Stark had the hearth fire going to keep the chill at bay. He sat in a leather chair, reclined with his chin resting on his hand. Stark pointed down and Loki sank to the carpeted floor. His teacher crooked his finger and Loki crawled with all the grace he had, ensuring never to raise his head from Stark’s boots. When he reached them, he bent without being told and kissed the toe with such adoration that he felt it in his heart.

“I am quickly becoming enamored of you, Little Prince.”

And Loki shivered to hear it.

“Now that you are in my house, much greater tasks shall be demanded of you. I have whipped you and punished you and worked you till dropping, but I am not so foolish as to think I have truly broke you. Perhaps it is my flaw that I can not bare to think of so brilliant a spirit being absolutely subservient to any will. And yet that is what I have been asked to do.” Stark stroked down his hair. “So we come now to this impasse. I must break you, train you and make of you’re a core of humility and conservation without destroying that spark I have come to appreciate.” He lifted Loki and bade him raise his eyes. “Show me the length of your grace. Show me that you cannot be broken, but made strong than you were. Let me instead make of you something forge born and powerful in your silence and dignity even in the face of adversity. I can do this. Merely let me in to do so.”

Loki’s frame shuddered in need. He lapped eagerly at the back of Stark’s hand. When given permission he answered: “I can think not of one thing I would deny you.”

Stark laughed. “That shall change. I promise there will be things that hurt your pride even worse than that which have already wounded you.” He pushed Loki’s head back down and stood. “But first you must learn what is expected of you here. I do now need a work horse in my house. I need an obedient and well trained pet.” He snapped the crop against Loki’s thighs and watched him struggle to accept this. “I will expect only the best of you and be greatly disappointed if you do fall short.”

Loki nodded his acknowledgement and moved along with Stark’s hands as he was touched and explored. Such affection was something he was not yet accustomed to. To have gone so long without the physical, to be touched and given such attention, exclusive to him, only for him. How could he not crave it?

“Sit up, straight and tall.” He ordered and gave a smart little swat to Loki’s backside to ensure the rigidity of his spine. “Hands behind your neck, Little Prince, knees spread open as far as they might go. Excellent. Head up and eyes down.” He waited till Loki did fall into position and nodded. Stark then came closer. “Do you remember the rules I did give to you but a week ago?”

It was a direct question, so he was allowed to choose his words. “May I ask for them repeated, Sir? I have endured much since then.” Stark nodded and repeated the rules of his estate. “Thank you, Sir.”

“This position you are in is your Attention. If you are in company, or awaiting my next order, then you shall sit as this, so that your body is best displayed for all to view.” Stark then instructed him to raise up on the balls of his feet and balance there, still without losing the placement of his arms and knees. Loki grit his teeth and strained to hold it. “This is Endure. Should you make some mild mistake in need of but a small castigation, I shall order you to this.” Loki gasped and fell forward, catching himself just in time. Stark tsked above him. “Should you fail to hold a posture, it is a need for punishment. Ten strikes to be administered by whomsoever is closest to rebuke you.” He took then the crop and gave it to Loki himself, though not nearly so hard as it might have been. He was, after all, learning these for the first time.

It did please him and make his chest rise that, when the last strike fell, Loki pushed himself back into Endure without being instructed so. Stark gave him a loving pat. “Now, down with your legs tucked neatly under you, arms extended outwards in supplication, palms up and cupped as though to receive communion.” Loki did obey, letting his limbs move with fluid grace as he was told. “This is Supplication. When I have punished you for a transgression, and you are again permitted movement, you must fall to this position and silently await my forgiveness. Which I will give at a touch of my hand in yours.” He did this and Loki, thinking quickly, then fell back into Attention.

“Well done! Well done indeed my sweet, clever Little Prince!” Stark smiled in joy and Loki had not ever felt so praised in his life! He let out a breath of relief to know he had instinctively done this so well. “Now then, when we are alone, such formal posing might not be so needed. Sit with your legs crossed on your bottom, lay your hands in your lap, but do keep your back straight. If we are alone, this is Relief. You may sit in it to give your body a bit of time to recover, if you do choose.” He then had Loki lean forward on his elbows and knees, his buttocks lifted high and proud and well exposed. He was again made to balance on his knees, his feet lifted up to force him into a controlled manner of balance. “This is Castigation. It is the position you will take should anyone require you to be punished. It exposed your bottom beautifully, not to mention displays your heft and testicles as though they were fruit to be so plucked.” He cheerfully administered a swat at them with the tip of the crop and Loki whined to feel them tightly hit.

The next pose, his feet were laid upon the floor and he was made to stretch his cheeks out further, face bowed till his nose touched the carpet and his arms were stretched in front of him. “This is Humility. Should you bring offense to one of my household, or a guest I do have over, this is the position you will take to ask them for their forgiveness. Remember your manners. Sir or Madam. Please and Thank-you.” Loki nodded slowly and was instructed to stand, spine straight, hands behind his back with his fingers gripping his elbows tightly. “This is Halt. One of my personal favorites, as you may have noticed my tendency to harness you in this way. It is the position most comfortably held for long periods of time and how you should stand, especially in front of company.” He reached up and slipped his fingers into Loki’s hair, tenderly petting him.

Loki shivered as this was done to him and cast his eyes to the ground, reveling in it for a moment.

“Now then, shall we rehearse, Little Prince?” Stark lifted the crop and commanded him to do each pose in turn. When he forgot a pose, or did fall from the desires position, which was want to happen, his master corrected him just as he had promised. Ten firm and sharp stripes across his bottom and thighs, each time becoming more severe. “Attention, Endure, Supplication, Relief, Castigation, Humility, Halt. Again! Attention, Endure, Supplication, Relief, Castigation, Humility, Halt. Again!” Endure proved to be his most tragic undoing. Even when each and every other pose fell into line, he simply could not seem to hold that difficult posture. And, in the tenth run, when he fell forward and Stark gave a frustrated noise he shot his teacher a furious look and barked back:

“I cannot!”

And he was set upon by the crop most viciously! Ten for falling his pose! Twenty more for speaking without permission. And lastly thirty on top of that for disregarding his loyalty to Stark and failing to call sir! Each one stung bitterly into his bottom and he whimpered, a few tears slipping past his guard. When he was released he took a breath, a gasp only, and did force himself into Supplication. Stark rounded him three times, giving him a hard look and squeezing the crop in his hands. At long last he slid his hand into Loki’s and ordered him to begin the routine again. “Attention, Endure, Supplication, Relief, Castigation, Humility, Halt.”

He was not merely expected to jostle from one position to the next. No, grace was needed. Poise expected. And when Endure was again in front of him, Loki pushed himself to hold it.

And Stark paused to make him.

He held, gritting his teeth and moaning angrily through grit teeth. Loki held till his thighs and feet began to burn and his muscles quivered.

“Relief.”

Loki gasped and made himself move carefully into the last position. The Stark began to differ the order, watching for his memory and nodding as he did well. At long last, when he was allowed rest, Stark again placed hands to his head and patted him patiently. “You transgressed, Little Prince. It was of poor quality and you should know better.” He pressed his boot forward and his charge bent low and kissed it. “As I said, I expect the best from you. Show me you are capable of it.” He came closer and inspected his student, considering something which was made privy to no one but himself. Stark pursed his lips, and then bade Loki come forward. His fingers stroked down through the sultry locks, taking ownership of him in the most subtle of ways.

A lick at the back of his hand and for the first time, Stark pushed Loki’s face towards the floor. It rankled him to be forbidden when he had asked so prettily, but he chewed his lower lip and stayed his quick tongue. “I have brought something to enhance you, sweet Little Prince.” Stark announced and brought forth an elegantly inlaid box of mahogany. He set it on the floor before Loki and nodded that he might be allowed to open it.

The velvet cushioning held in play a set of accoutrements which made Loki turn pink in an instant. A set of fine leather manacles, each one with a tiny silver loop and padlocks. And next to it lay a matching collar, the three of them lined with rabbit fur so as to prevent any scuffing or rawness as it lay on his skin. “These will not come off, not so long as you are within my household.” Stark promised him with warm tones as he watched the long fingers explore them. “You will wear nothing else, unless I give permission. If you do wear clothing, these will be on underneath. You will hate them at first. They will feel constricting and make you ever so aware of your position here. But soon you will find the comfort in them.” He crooked his finger and made Loki bring him the box as he sat on his chair as though he were about to knight him.

Loki’s hands shook as he extended his wrists and the manacles were strapped about them. With but a tiny click they were in place and he did not understand why he would now feel so breathless. So followed the collar about his slim and perfect neck, and Stark smiled a little smile to see such a sight before him. “Come now, the real work as just begun.”

***

And so he was correct in this. If Loki had found his field work taxing, it was nothing compared to the rigors of what was expected of his now as Stark’s personal pet. And there was no finer word to describe his new position than that. Each night he slept on a fine soft pallet at the foot of his master’s bed, his collar leashed to the post. When he was awakened by Jarvis in the morning, Stark would look first to Loki and put him through his positions, two or perhaps three times to ensure they forever kept in his memory. He was washed, scrubbed with warm water by Stark’s own hands, no opportunity for a rough fondle or caress was missed.

And then he was spanked.

Not for having done wrong. No, these were marks of affection which he was to learn could come now at any time or place. In a fortnight Loki was to see that the slightest infraction could be punished by any of the Stark household, not merely by his master. Each servant, maid and even Jarvis carried their preferred implement to properly chastise him at a moment’s notice. And there were a dozen little things he might do to deserve this.

Once, while bringing Stark’s tea tray to him at promptly 3 o’clock, the head maid did observe he had forgotten the butter. He was greatly humiliated to find himself halted, still holding the tray and made to keep it from spilling as she administered twenty five brutal whips to his thighs with her cutting board. How the silver clattered and jerked as Loki tried to stand still for his punishment.

And then he was harshly dealt with again for being late with the tea. He gave a look of cold anger at the injustice of it, and was given an extra dozen for his self-righteous indignation. After all, if he had not forgotten the butter, he would not have needed to be punished. If he had not needed to be punished he would not have been late.

Loki took great care not to leave the butter behind again.

Another matter that did vex him greatly was the care everyone seemed to take to keep his cheeks at just the right shade of pink that Stark insisted he enjoyed. Again, it was not that he was being punished, but rather the simple fact that at any moment one might call him to task and put him in any of the poses he had learned for a ripe and rich spanking kept him on his toes in both the literal and figurative sense. He had, much to his chagrin, discovered that Jarvis had a mean swing to him.

But along with the brutal and dominating control over him, there was a sweetness and sincerity. Often Stark would call him near and pet him absently while he ate or simply have Loki lean against his thigh as he read. His most contented moments were spent in this way, and yet there was a desire that steeped inside him. He had twice now been subjected to the wild and strange passion of being mounted by his master. The spreading of his loins and impalement on the rigid pole of lust made him whole.

So why then did Stark not take him again for near on fourteen days?

Loki began to search for some great wrong he might have done. Some lapse or misdeed he might have preformed to provoke this neglect of his need. Often he was erect in his master’s presence. Often Stark would chuckle and touch it with a few fingers as though the site of the hard, hungry flesh amused him to no end. “Self control, Little Prince.” Stark reminded him with a greatly amused grin. “Did you think yourself here merely to cater to my debauched besire? I think not. No you were sent to me to learn your lessons and learn them you shall.” He did torment Loki wickedly by this, day in and day out. He felt as a cat in heat, nervous and mewling. He would have raised his hips just as high and eager for it if Stark did but demand such a press. And yet each night Loki slept on his comfortable pallet, leashed to the bedpost and was wriggling for the intimacy of the two of them in congress.

And it was on the fifteenth night that he did a most scandalous and unprincipled thing.

And when he did it again on the sixteenth night, Stark caught him.

Hand on his own member, pink and feverish and close, oh so wonderfully close, Loki looked up and saw disappointed brown eyes staring into his own, gazing at him, face stern and silent. “Sir…please sir I…” his words came out dry and desperate.

But they both knew well enough what he had done wrong. Stark took him by his collar. Loki did try! Oh he tried to lick the hand to explain himself but it was torn from his lips! He tried to fall into Supplication but was jerked forward. And yet he dared not speak again for frightful thought that he might only make it worse on himself. He was taken to the side of Stark’s bed and put down on all fours, and in front of him lay a strange box.

Make from oak, well-polished and set to look like perhaps a chest for treasures, Loki did now see that there were three holes in the padded lid, and that what he had thought to be handles were in fact steel loops for padlocks. He mouthed the word no and shook his head. But it was for not. This would be such suffering for him.

“Rule Four: Your body belongs to me.” Stark repeated, exactly as he had on their first night. “You have through your misdeed forfeited your rights to self-sufficiency and independence.” He reminded Loki as he lifted the first panel of the stocks and grabbed him firmly by the scalp. Loki crawled at his behest, already crying silently as he felt his neck and wrists pressed into the half circle. “And it appears I must remove even the right to move from you.” Loki’s body shook with sobs and though Stark did stroke his back, still the wooden slat was pressed against the back of his neck. One hole for his head, two for his hands, and the click of the padlocks and darkness that close in on him told him he was trapped.

He could hear the sound of rummaging about the room, and the approach of footsteps coming closed made him stumble for purchase. But the box was nailed to the floor and did not move as all as he tried to awkwardly position himself. Loki could not see but still felt it as Stark took hold of his legs and positioned it so that his knees rested on the padded slats that held him in place. It was a strained position, folding him nearly in half and pushing his ass end up as high as it could.

And then the crop rained down on him.

Now though, it did not touch his bottom, no not for this breach of protocol. Loki screamed in sharp bursts as his cock was now abused by it, each slap of leather making him jerk and the box clank. And Stark spoke to him as he did this.

“I know what you would have me give to you. Do you think I do not suffer as well, not to take you to bed every night as I would wish to? But I must, even in my own house, remember that I am here to teach you to make better of yourself.” The crop lashed out again and again and Loki sobbed in this pitiable position. “How can a man be called a man if he has not the self-control of one? If he cannot contain his most basic instinct and master impulse?” More and more. Harder and harder, till Loki began to beg verbally for it to cease. One hundred and fifty time the blows landed, till his manhood was as red and sore and swollen as could be.

But his trials were not over.

“Did you think that I would not take you again?” Stark’s tone conveyed such a quality of dejection that Loki felt near as sorry for upsetting him as he did for his own position. “Did you believe that I would not embrace you once more, in due course? You had but to be patient, while I gave you time to absorb your new place and new lessons.” A hand laid itself on him and stroked with a fondness against his welted scrotum. He hollered and shook his head out to plead no, but it made little difference, as Stark squeezed his testicles tightly. “I did not wish to add the stress of pleasing me to it.”

Oh but it would not have been stress, but relief! Loki wished to tell him.

“But, if it is such debauchery you wish for, I shall give you more than enough.” He voice was now dark and twisted and Loki could but listen to his footsteps fall away and a door open and shut. He was left alone in the room for many minuets, lingering, struggling but a little. So well shut and well devised was this insidious trap that he could not move but to switch his knees and try to find better balance. When the door opened again, Loki heard the sound of a ceramic bowl being set down and a knife being scrapped against something as though Stark were whittling away. The sharp, pungent scent of citrus hit his nose and Loki tried to think of what was being devised.

Something cold and wet and thick was pressed into his body, bulging just enough that it had to be firmly wedged in. For a moment he felt nothing, and then it spread through his body like fire! Tingling, burning, singing his hole horribly, the ginger created such a sensation as he had never felt before and he kicked out to try and dislodge it. Stark grabbed his legs and thrust them firmly back into position. “You will not!” he commanded. “And the more you do struggle the longer it will remain. Perhaps this will be a good lesson to quell the burning passion within you Fight fire with fire.”

Loki did try to battle, but he was in a position to do naught but loose. Finally he submitted, his body again folded and kept as the ginger did it’s hateful work. He wept in his wooden box, wept to be so tormented in his most tender of areas. And when the sensation finally began to weaken, Stark would only remove the ginger long enough to slice it fresh and let the hard citrus spice destroy him. When his whimpers turned to quiet shakes, Stark did relent, the ruthless figging done. And, as if fate existed but to toy with him, Loki knew his cock was still hard and leaking precum.

But he did not release Loki from the stocks. Instead he took something strong and stretching and wrapped it hard around the base of his charges shaft and testicles, weighing them till they were so tightly could that they could not find release no matter what was done.

“You have brought this upon yourself, Little Prince.” Stark said as he sighed with disappointment, lifted the sheets, and went back to bed. Loki could not conceive that, while he sat there sobbing as quietly as he dared, that Stark was not yet sleeping. The master of the house did watch him, wondering how he might better the lesson. Thinking still into the wee hours of the morning how he might ensure that his Little Prince took it to his heart.

How I might I teach him better? Stark wondered to himself, watching the moonlight glisten off the full round globes of his buttocks. How might I show him that I do suffer at the sight of him as well? That it is not merely his own pleasure being diminished but my own? I may not merely treat him as though he is a concubine or catamite! He is here to learn from me that which might make him more a gentleman and less a rogue about the town! Stark stressed greatly over this, considering until at last he fell asleep, his plan well decided upon.

***

Loki was then awoken by the solid, hard thrust into his body, jarring him from his troubled slumber and pushing upon his tunnel insistently. He jolted and shrieked out his complained, though the cock inside him had been oiled it was still so sudden to be so filled. He jostled and the box clanked about as he was pounded about till at last a warmth coated his insides. The construction about his own member remained, and so he was forbidden such relief. The phallus withdrew, and yet was then replaced by something bulbous and metallic inside of him, forcing the wetness deeper. The clicking of locks being undone helped him steady his tremble, and when the slat was removed and he winced in the daylight, he wobbled as he fell before Stark, falling as carefully as he might into Supplication.

“Nay, Little Prince.” Stark said, but his face was not angry, merely quieted as he cleaned his manhood of whiteness. “You may not be forgiven, not yet. But the blame is not entirely your own either.” He gripped Loki’s chin and lifted him. “You must be made to grasp the situation. You are not here for a pleasure escape. You are here to be taught. I was not given you so that I might indulge myself.” He insisted and then shook his head. “Your passion is charming, but must be strict control. Your desire is hot and magnificent, but you waste it by allowing it to rule your actions!” Stark tried. “So now I must do what I can to teach you such restraint.”

Loki was taken through his morning tasks, then made to lean forward, place his hands against the wall, and be taken again. And again. And yet again. Many many times over that day, Stark ravished him, each time pocketing his seed inside the tightness that welcomes him. But though it grew to such a virile intensity, Loki was still kept constricted. He was not permitted release. He was not allowed to find the height of his bliss. But even as he suffered through the cycle of aching, widening desire, Loki did see a joy in watching Stark strain inside him, holding his own pleasure till he could last no longer. He was happy to know he caused such joy in another.

Even when it cost him greatly.

At night he was placed back in the box. As he could not be trusted to keep his hands above his waist, it only seemed fit that he would be kept in this position to assure his punishment was well learned. On the second day, his ache was terrible, but Stark did not hold back on him. Each time he came, it was kept inside him due to the plug pressed deep inside. Loki’s moans echoed through the mansion, even when he knew himself to be gaping and exposed in the most lewd of ways, he could not help but acknowledge the way his blood boiled to be so taken.

On the third day, Stark announced that they would be having guests for tea and dinner. His nervousness lingered through out the morning and was made realized when Jarvis announced the arrival of Baron and Baroness Barton.

It is all ended now! Loki though, much to his great sorrow. The Batron’s were long standing friends to his brother Thor. They would see the state of him and he would find no end to the ridicule and animosity it would bring him publically! Surely now he would be shamed from the family and disowned! And yet Stark made him wait on all fours by his side as they came to the front doors to receive the visitors.

So desperate was he to hid his embarrassment for but a few moments longer that at first he did not realize. But when at last he heard Stark introduce him as his Little Prince, what choice did he have but to raise his head for inspection?

And it was then that his boldness overcame good sense. The Baroness Natasha Barton was impeccably dressed in her known preference for black and red, ever the stylish woman of her own. But Clint! Clint wore naught! He stood while Loki knelt, but in all other ways they were much alike, well collared and manacles, following a few steps behind the person who was so very clearly their possessor.

“Such pretty green eyes he has!” Natasha remarked and Loki realized he should be looking at the ground as was appropriate. “A new acquisition I take it? We had heard rumors that you had taken on Odinson as a charge, but we dared not believe it without seeing!”

Stark smiled agreeably. “It is true, though even I will admit what a challenge he has become. Such a rascal in need of strict control, else he runs wild!”

“Nothing you are not capable of handling, this I am sure.” The lady responded, openly looking at the confused and bewildered youth. “He is a fine thing.” She lifted his head and touched his pale cheek. “So pretty in his desperation. But what is this?” she tapped the head of his cock and Loki could not help but whimper in agony. “Such restrictive accessories?”

“I am afraid my pet has been terribly naughty. I caught him attempting to stroke himself to completion and he is being well put to rack for it.”

“Such a pity! Ah but the best horses are often those it takes time to break. Is that not right sweet Hawkeye.” He reached back and petted Clint affectionately and he nuzzled into her palm, his euphoria evident. “Is this why you called to me Stark?”

“I had thought that perhaps it would do him good to see a well-trained and well managed pet. And in our circles it is known that you do indeed have one that fulfills these qualities most admirably.” He nodded to her pet who gave a satisfied smile, but otherwise did not acknowledge how proud he was over this. They took tea in the drawing room and Loki, though he wished so deeply not to be made to do so, was placed back in the box, his body displayed for the guests pleasure. A new torment was added as one of the side panels was removed to reveal glass, allowing him to see the them all sitting, enjoying their tea and cakes. Jealousy flared in his gut to see Clint knelt so docile next to his wife, gingerly taking lemon meringue from her palm without dropping a crumb and licking jasmine tea from a small silver dish Jarvis had brought. Clint’s eyes noted him glaring so hatefully and he gave a lascivious wink, inciting Loki to turn his face away.

How could Stark show him this? How could he make him the object of derision! To let him be viewed naked, exposed, dejected was bad enough. But then to thrust another, treasured, well trained pet in front of him as if to further mock his failure! It was too much!

“And why do you keep him from his pleasure?” Natasha questioned imperiously. “It is true there is a delicious virtue in making such a prime pet await and still serve your needs. But you wish him to learn from you, yes? Anthony, a pot can only be filled with so much water before it can hold nothing else. If you do not give him some fulfillment, then his mind will be occupied with not but it. He will be unable to learn.” She insisted.

“Perhaps there is some truth to what you say.” Stark seemed to consider this and looked down to Loki’s face. “If I were to allow you pleasure again, would you so abuse the privilege, Little Prince?”

“Nay Sir, I swear I would not.” Loki whimpered, glad to finally be allowed to speak on the matter.

“And does your cock ache for release?”

“Yes Sir it does so painfully!” He gasped out, adjusting so that he might balance again.

“Oh do let my Clint play with him!” Natasha said, setting down her cup of tea. “It would be so fine to see him writhe at my pet’s touch!”

Stark laughed but nodded his consent. “As you will. What then should you say to my friend, Little Prince?”

Loki was aghast! He had not even spoken one word to this man and now he was to be given over to him! He bared his teeth but knew himself to be lost to this demand. “I thank you Madame. You are so terribly generous.”

Natasha did not miss the ire, but she only smiled and nodded to her pet.

Clint rose gracefully, sliding his hands over Loki’s body. He seemed to take great pleasure in feeling the youth jolt and whimper with restless excitement at his touch. His fingers caressed the paler man’s thighs and belly, finding the hanging, long suffering cock and beginning to milk it. It would do little good till the constriction was taken off, but Loki was unable to resist just how sensitive he had been made to be. He screamed out his delight, tossing his head about as he was viewed.

And then a strange thing did happen. Clint, silently and beautifully bent his head to the stretched and abused hole and began to lap at it.

Never had such a wild and cataclysmic sensation overtaxed him! Loki’s mouth fell open and his eyes helplessly darted to Stark as he was devoured. His teacher watched with devilish admiration, reveling in every gasp and twitch as his pet was flicked and licked by the rakishly handsome man. “Well? Have you no manners at all? Even now you are pet to a pet. And as he has taken control of your desire, should you not thank him like a master?”

Loki had to give many short breaths before he found his voice, tongue deeper inside him than before. “T-thank you Sir! Most gracious Sir!”

A loud hum met his ears and though he could not see him, a deeply lustful voice answered, “You are welcome.” And then applied itself again to work. Finally, after many long minuets of being so mercilessly teased, Stark permitted that the constraint be removed, and Natasha’s pet did slid his tongue against the pucker and stroke his cock till cum burst through and spilled on the box holding Loki. His plug was slid back in and Loki was at last released from his imprisonment to kneel by Stark, only after he had kissed Clint’s feet and Natasha’s boot for their assistance.

“See? Is your head not much clearer now, Little Prince?” Natasha asked.

“Yes Madame. Thank you Madame.” Loki whispered breathlessly.

They were both of them taken for an afternoon run after tea. How glorious it was to feel such freedom again, the two pets running side by said as their masters crops chased them through the fields. Loki could not help but steal a glance and admire the taunt, muscular frame of Clint. Nor did it escape his notice how the two spouses smiled freely at one another, despite one being clearly dominant over the other. Clint was not admonished for looing her in the eye, indeed she seemed to thrill at it. But he was whipped no less severely for as they were made to gallop and prance. All afternoon, Stark and Natasha kept their pets exercised, letting them thrill at their harnessed restraint and the good fresh spring breeze. And when dusk began to fall, both men were taken to the stables and stalled so that their masters might speak privately.

Stark kissed his charge good-night, promising that he would be brought back to the house in the morning as Natasha warmly hugged her Hawkeye, kissing him and warning him to be well behaved. The stalls were fresh and the hearth in there was warm, and Loki lay down, confused and curious. Yet he dared not ask anything.

“You need not show such fear. We have no intention of speaking to Thor on this matter.”

Loki rose, looking shyly over at his fellow pet. Was he allowed to speak to him?

“We can speak freely here. Your master and my wife are having dinner and ours will soon be brought to us. I believe they left us alone so that we might converse with one another.” Clint assured him convincingly.

Loki looked about, swallowing. “Are you certain? I would not for all the world trouble Star…Sir again.”

His partner laughed and nodded. “You are a good charge then, and Stark does not give you near enough credit. Though your situation is somewhat different from mine, I know a smart and capable pet when I see one. It was a delight to pleasure you. I am glad my Madame allowed me to do so.”

Loki blushed to remember that tongue on him. He gave a sidelong look and held but a moment more before blurting out his curiosity. “How did you come to this? You are not as I was! You were not ill behaved and sour tempered? I heard not but proud remarks as to your character and skills from Thor! How then did you fall to becoming a pet to your wife? What did happen to you?”

“Silence, Little Prince! I beg for silence!” Clint chuckled. “So many questions. So much confusion. Shall I tell you my story? Why I wear her collar proudly and do as she bids me? Not as my beloved wife by as my loving and commanding Madame?” Loki shook his head yes and Clint agreed. “Hush then, and I will tell you my tale.”


	6. Chapter Six

“I was born, not the first son, but the third of the Barton household. My eldest brother did of course stand to take the greatest portion of the inheritance and excelled in my father’s eyes, having become distinguished in the military. My second brother began a career as a scholar and professor, and thus his way was assured. However my own was left to chance. Third in life and third in consideration, I was left to make my own mark on the world. I did this by championing at sportsmanship. Horseback riding, fox hunts, marksmanship, archery, all these things made me a grand addition to the crown of my family, but still just another jewel amongst gems. Little more than a show pony for a great family to regale other great families with when they had not asked. My own desires for my life were not required. I could only hope for the best when my father passed years later and I was left the least of a household. My mother insisted that I marry, but yet who could they find of suitable station who might wish to be wedded to the Barton heir who inherited but a cottage and lands? My life was not ever once in my hands in my youth, and still I strove to smile and be the prize that they wished me to be. I was adrift, stagnant and incomplete.”

“It was not till I was becoming a bother to my family that I met the Lady Natasha at a summer banquet my family held each year. She is Russian, as you know, heiress to a grand fortune, so of course my elder brothers wooed her with all their vigor. She paid them little mind, she paid most men little mind, but she did somehow decide that I would dance with her that evening. She had no chaperone, no father to safeguard her virtue, and I was quite shocked when he boldly took my hand and lead me to the dance floor. How she did grip me so possessively! She refused to let go of me and we danced till my feet were sore. The Lady paid my father’s household visits often after this, always finding some excuse to linger about so that she might speak with me. I will not find shame in admitting that I found her equally magnificent and frightening. She had a brash way about her. My Madame would not stay quiet if she did feel her opinion had a need to be voiced. Nor would she allow anyone to assist her when she would mount a horse for the fox hunt. She exuded such power, such style and grace and I was enamored of her. Yet so low did I think myself that I did not dare ask her favor. I was merely contented that she did wish to speak with me often and would smile at me and me alone when she left.”

“I was, I think, much to lessened in my own eyes t realize that she wanted me. Surely, I thought, such a woman would find her preference in my brave, stoic elder brother or my clever, well-educated second brother. What would she want with the third in line who inherited little more than nothing? I thought perhaps she was merely amused by me and would eventually tire of the sport at my expense.”

“After many weeks of this subtle flirtation, I and I alone of my brothers was invited to a fox hunt at her families estate. My mother saw it as a golden opportunity to enrich our family’s social standing. My Madame is a fifth cousin to the Russian royalty, you know. So she did dress me in my best and sent me off, instructing me to do whatever it took to win the ladies approval.”

“When I arrived I thought myself late. Natasha was already dressed in her riding gear. I saw no others attending her. No hounds. Only a servant carrying a wooden box with decorative engravings. I begged her pardon, she refused it to me, her prim and lovely lips in the most impish smile. Afraid I might have lost the glimpse of her favor, I showed my contrition as a gentleman and offer to preform any task she might ask to earn her forgiveness. The box was handed to me and I was instructed to put on the accoutrements inside of it. I opened the lid to see a set of false ears and tail, made for a man of my size. I was chafed at this! I thought her jesting and accused her of such.”

“Ah but Madame has always been clever. She applied to me my word as a gentleman of the house of Barton. She demanded that I wear the humiliating additions and when I did, she took a horn and blasted it three times as a call to hunt. More folk did appear, all dressed appropriately, your Sir among them. All seemed greatly amused by this entertainment. I stumbled, falling backwards. Natasha spurred her horse on and began to ride me down.” And at this Clint laughed heartily at the shock and dismay on Loki’s sweet face. “She always did favor the most swift of procurements for my attention. I suppose after so much flirtation with no return on my side, she tired of waiting. I ran of course, and she was not out for blood. The cavalry let me run on, enjoying the way I dodged to and fro. They let the chase continue, more for their own jovial sport than any inability to capture me. And when the hunt had gone on a for two hours I found the thought to climb a tree and try to evade them further.”

“This only amused the Madame greater. She promised ten gold and a kiss to whoever might fetch me down and bring me to her. Fetched I was, though I struggled and complained loudly, and I was trussed up finer than a wild turkey and slung across the front of her horse. She gave those who captured me what they were promised and lashed me down so that I would not move as we galloped back to the manor. All the while as would strike me about the bottom and thighs as it pleased her to do so, causing me great confusion and dismay. When we arrived, she handed me off to a servant and told them to ensure I looked the part, as she wished to show off her catch at dinner.”

“I was stripped and washed, much the same as you were upon your arrival here I am quite sure. My arms were bound behind me and I was gagged with a large red ball in my mouth. My tail was attached to a firm plug and inserted into me by hands so deft I am certain they were well practiced at the craft. The ears were put back on and I was brought to the hall on a leash, crawling about on all fours for all to see. I resisted of course, as I am sure many are want to do. But you must grasp that it was to no avail. I was so confused, so beyond my sheltered and restricted capacity to understand what was happening that I could but accept and pray.

Madame inspected me as I was brought before her. She seemed quite pleased and laughed, tugging my leash and bringing me to her chair side. “I think I shall keep this one!” she announced and kissed me with more passion and faith then I had ever experienced till then. I was passed from lap to lap to be pawed at and excited, even when I would not be. I was spanked by many crops and wooden utensils, by bottom sore and pinked by the time Madame handled me again. I think she saw the worry in my eyes and took some pity on me. When the dinner was over, she made me walk behind her and took me to her bedroom. She was no slouch, no ignorant woman. She knew of my situation and of my skill. She had over many weeks seen great drive in me, great talent that was made for better than a third son! She made me undress her, watching as I helplessly obeyed, already well under her spell. And then she held me close, closer than anyone had held me yet. She, naked and strong and protective. I just as naked, but ashamed and all but cast aside. Madame took me to her bed. She did not lie with me as two do lie together as lovers. No. Instead she had me put my head in her lap and she stroked me lovingly. She petted me, and groomed me with a brush. She let me sleep there as she tended to my little scratches as bruises from climbing the tree and resisting her. And when I awoke, she gave me a choice. She called me her sweet Hawkeye, aiming always for the target, and said that she had fallen into want with me many weeks ago when she had seen the pride with which I bore my station. The subdued and yet dignified way that I accepted my lot as third son without resigning myself to being less than who I was. A man of character and ability, who would find a task and accomplish it. And with the passing of weeks and conversations we had given one another, she had begun to respect me for never treating her as a docile little lady who might faint at any strife.”

“Clint.” She spoke to me most lovingly. “Even when other have said that you will not achieve, you have found greatness. Even when I made a fox of you, you could not help but be the greatest fox I have ever been blessed to hunt! Such delights you gave my company. Such delights I would have you give me!”

“And then she offered me a choice. She told me I might go back to my life. That no one would speak on what had happened in the hunt. That I might simply be Clint Barton, third in line and doomed to obscurity. Or, and at this she offered me her hand, I might wed her, and be raised up where I belonged. At the side of a woman who had grown to care for me and indeed might well be on her way to loving me.”

Loki watched as Clint lifted his collar, fondling it as though it were the most precious and dear thing in the world to him. “I made my choice. It was hard yes. It was at times frightful and beyond what I thought myself capable of. But always she pushed me to be greater. And when we were wedded as man and wife, she mounted me and let me find her womanhood, and she named me Hawkeye again for my skill at finding her target. Never did she let me doubt what I could do. To all the world we are Baron and Baroness, Lord and Lady Barton. In public she does as all ladies are expected to do and treats me as her rightful husband, as I am. And I do treat her as my lawful wife, which she is. But when the day is done and we are home together, I am utterly her creature. And I have yet to find a greater bliss than that which was provided at her hand.”

Loki thought and this for a moment and then spoke sadly. “But it is not for me as it is for you. I am here by my fathers will, though he knows not what I endure. I cannot deny the strange satisfaction I am brought by bending to Stark’s word. And yet I cannot give myself to it utterly. If I do, then what shall I be when I leave? What do I become when the inevitable occurs and I am sent back to my estates and again am the son of a lord? Shall I still bow and lick the boots of others? Shall I present my bottom when I have been poorly behaved and await my punishments?” he could not help but laugh at the thought of this, but it was a sorrowful noise. “Oh what a sight I would be!”

“Aye, and this may be true. But I ask you this then Loki. Where are you now? What place do the judgments and whims of your father have here in the house of Stark? Would it not be better then, if your time in his collar is so limited, to grasp it for what it is worth. So that one day, when you return to your estates and the marriage that others would see for you, you will have these months to look back on and smile with nostalgic bliss.” Clint said with candor as he looked into his neighboring stall.

“It is a fair portrait you paint, I will say that much at least.” The youth admitted, yet remained unconvinced. “I have been remiss I think, as I have yet to truly thank you for your, er, quick tongue upon me. It was most relieving.”

Clint gave a throaty laugh and nodded. “I was well thrilled to do so. I would be allowed to make a snack of you often if I could.” He batted his eyelashes sweetly and looked over his fellow naked servant. “I would gladly make a meal of you now, if you would let me.”

Loki blushed and could not help a small smile turning up the curve of his lips. “You flatter me.” And he meant it. “But my Sir did spend much time ensuring I remembered self control, especially for my baser instincts. He would be sore disappointed if I gave in after so much trouble on his behalf.” He thought for a brief moment, then added. “And I would be sorer still if I did not take such lessons to heart.”

Again Clint laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh you are wasted as a young lord!” he swore. Dinner was brought to them as their respective masters returned and bathed their pets, grooming them prettily. Natasha took her time with her ‘sweet Hawkeye’, ensuring that each hair of him fell into place where she wished it.

“Now then, did you do as I commanded to you?” She asked when she had finished Clint’s brushing.

“I did attempt it, Madame. But he did refuse me out of loyalty to Sir Stark.”

Stark humphed but seemed approving as Natasha cast him a smug look. “What did I tell you? A little pleasure partnered with his suffering and he remembers where his mind should be kept.” She lifted Clint and slapped his cheek smartly. “But you are still such a naughty boy for failing me!”

Clint fell automatically into Supplication, his eyes cast downwards but an eager smile on his lips as she chastised him. “Forgive me, Madame.” He pleaded, but one could tell at a glance that he wished most desperately for anything but her sympathy. She must have seen it too, for the lady Natasha’s lips did match his own.

Loki felt a horrid guilt wash over him. He had not known his new friend would be punished for his refusal! He turned to Stark, licking his hand quickly. Stark did not permit it, but he did say “Had you accepted, you would be punished instead? Would you trade places with him now, Little Prince?” Loki shook his head, and yet he would not have Clint suffer for his actions or lack thereof. His face showed this clearly and he turned his pleading eyes to Natasha. She ignored him but for a shake of her head as Clint was made to bow into Castigation. From her satchel his Madame took a large phallic shaped plug and slicked it with almond oil, humming as she did so.

“You will wear this, Hawkeye, until we arrive home tomorrow.” She instructed as she pressed it into his body, slowly and gently ensuring he suffered only the most breathtaking gasps of joy as she did so. Loki did know the look on his face and wondered to himself if he appeared so ruined and ecstatic in this state.

“Thank you, Madame!” Clint called out and was then bound with a strap harness of binding to ensure the toy stayed in no matter the disturbance. He was made to stand shakily and his wife kissed him, ruffling his hair fondly.

“He does endure this so well.” She sighed, quite pleased and turned then to Stark and his Little Prince. “I hope you will think on what we discussed. I would not see you so distressed again.”

Loki was left to wonder at her meaning as Stark nodded. “I will take your advice under due consideration my Lady. Are you sure you will not linger the night? I am sure Hawkeye would much like to rest.” He indicated the panting creature that stood awaiting her orders.

“Oh no! I mean for him to pull my carriage through the night for this transgression.” Natasha insisted and asked the servants to harness him up to her carriage. Poor Clint, wrought and run through as he was, still managed to give Loki a beleaguered and thrilled smile before the whip touched his backside and off they went into the countryside.

Loki was then taken to Stark’s rooms and instructed to undress and bathe him before bed. Oh how he longed to touch that body! The last few days had been rough handling on him, there was no doubt, but a bit of relief had gone a long way and he restrained himself. He did as he knew he must, licking his lips in secret to reveal the broad shoulder and glorious frame. He then bent low and kissed his masters feet, bowing as he waited for further instructions. There was a much satisfied sigh from above him.

“I think you will join me in bed tonight, Little Prince.”

Loki whimpered, but obeyed. How many times had he been used in but the last two days? How many times had that cock, the rigid wicked cock split him open while he suffered under constraint, forbidden to cum? And still he rose unquestioning as Stark took him by the collar and brought him to the sheets.

And then he was stunned by what followed.

Most of their ruttings had been just that. Deeply pleasing though they were, Loki was no fool. They were as much a show of dominant force as a demanding of pleasure. Stark was merely showing that this was something he could choose to take at his whim, and that he could, no matter how greatly Loki might protest, pull pleasure from him as a bee sapped pollen from a flower.

But this encounter was to be different. No quick stretching and entrance for tonight. Stark pressed Loki down on his stomach and began at the back of his neck, every inch made his canvas as he painted with his fingers and tongue across the white flesh. His moans were muffled into the pillow as he wriggled under his master, awaiting the next movement. Slow touches and deep fondling covered his body as Stark slid up against the youth, their bodies pressed so close that air had no room.

He found the tender pink nipples and slid his devious teeth against them, forcing his pet to pitch and mewl with helpless desire. Stark scratched and writhed down the nubile body, making war on the senses till he had conquered every last inch.

Loki’s hips were slid up by the strong fingers, presenting the cleft of his buttocks. Stark made his hands to come back and pull them to divide. And then he made a feast of Loki’s pucker. Oh what trouble he had holding his position as that troublesome mouth worked his entryway to its desires! It was as if Stark sought to reclaim what had been devoured so short a time ago. And reclaim it he did. He brought his pet’s body up to his own and Loki was made to straddle and mouth him, instructed to ride and give all he could to completing Stark’s pleasure.

Loki had not been long without bed play in his dalliances with tavern women. He took his pleasure where he found it. But those women had been well paid for their services and departed soon after. Never had the young lord known what rapture could be found in ensuring the deepest joy of another. He reveled in Stark’s eyes fluttering and the groan of his throat. Loki was to find out just how great control his master held over his own body as the candle by the bedside had dripped down for near an hour before he did at last seize hold of his youthful charge and release inside of him. So sore was Loki at the end he fell to the side and groaned, burying his face in the pillows.

But his surprised were to continue. Instead of ordering him back to his pallet as he might have expected, Stark instead instructed Loki to lap up his semen from his teacher’s stomach where it lay cooling. As he did this, taking some perverted satisfaction in the wet, salty taste, Stark spoke to him.

“I think, from now on, I shall ensure that I milk you every day.” This came as such a revelation that Loki stopped his working and had to be given a hard spank before he remembered to continue. “I suspect you know that you were spoken of at length between the Lady Natasha and myself. She reminded me that, while some pets submit easier to the crop, others still find it better motivation to be given affection for the obedience.” Stark kissed his nose and cradled Loki’s body to his own. “I think perhaps this to be a better method with you. Though you may still expect discipline, you are far too naughty to ever be entirely obedient.” He looked to his charge and noted the query in his eyes. “If you have questions, I would bid you ask them. Do not be silent till again I tell you do so.”

Loki took a deep breath before answering. “I wish to know, Sir, if it does give you such pleasure, if you would enjoy me, why then did you not for so many count of days?” He dared further and looked into Stark’s eyes. “Why were you so abstinent, Sir, when I but awaited a word from you?”

His master shook his head. “I did not wish you to think I brought you here to satisfy some queer whim of mine. I did not take you on for the pleasure of the bedroom you so wantonly long for. Though I will not deny to you the sweetness which they bring me.” He held Loki close and stroked him from top to bottom with affection. “We must not forget what is at stake should I fail you. I could not for all the world deny you your rights merely to accommodate myself.”

“I am aware, Sir, what I stand to lose.” Loki wound his fingers against the firm muscles and felt desire rise in him again. “I would be the best pet to you. I will do my very best to be at your behest. It is difficult for me. I do feel the debasement most acutely at every turn, Sir.” But he blushed and bit his lip. “Yet there is a satisfaction therein. There is. I promise it. To know that I am being so tightly held. I cannot explain it for I do not understand it, Sir. But I think I am beginning to grasp upon what you wish me to learn.”

“I should hope so. And for that I think you deserve a reward.” Stark promised. “For this day forward, for every six days you do show great improvement and tractability, I shall reward you with a day of rest and respite. I shall ensure that we will spend this day together, putting aside my other duties to attend to your submission in more frivolous pursuits.”

“Might we run again?” Loki spoke excitedly and the remembered himself. “Sir.” He amended.

But Stark was so enticed by this he laughed and covered his eyes. “If that is your wish then yes. We shall run. I will take you to the meadow as often as we can permit and let you run there freely, Little Prince. Is there any other request you might make of me? Any think you might wish to help motivate your rehabilitation more thoroughly?” he offered.

Loki thought on this. “I would like, if I may Sir, to beg your indulgence in this manner more often.” He whispered, ashamed to say it aloud now that it came to it. “I would wish to please you. Not just in the way in which I must, but in the way that reveals your more carnal needs of me.”

His master smiled, covering them with sheets. “Agreed. I think you will find your lessons far more education now that this might be freely included.” He embraced Loki and moved him so that he might sleep upon the pillows. “Tonight, just for tonight Little Prince, I think you have earned sleeping besides me in this manner.” He helped a warmth in his eyes and Loki seemed to emanate disbelief.

“Please yes, Sir!” He began to cry. Not from sorrow, nor pain, but comfort. All through the night, Stark held him close, though even if he had not Loki would not have let go of him.

***

And so it progressed for near another month. Loki gave all of himself to perfecting his tutelage. He was not absolute. He was, after all, a young lord of high privilege and could not help that this did occasionally make itself apparent. At times his mood would break and his temper give way and when this did occur the punishments were most strict and exacting.

One day, he snapped irritably at a servant for not having the tea water heated and ready for him to bring Stark his tea tray, calling the man an incompetent oaf. For this, a warm enema was administered to the amount of four pints, Stark watching without mercy as he wept pitifully, his stomach distending till it was swollen and cramping. When the last drops of the funnel drained into him, Stark placed a hard metal plug into him, forcing Loki to carry the weight for nearly an hour till he bent low and kissed the boots of every servant in the house to make amends.

When the sarcasm of his tongue could simply not be quelled, he was made to wear a gag which held his mouth open and his tongue down, forcing him to salivate generous amounts. He was forced to look in a mirror as it did this and face the results of his own viperous mouth.

And there was as always, the multiple spankings, sometimes to where he could not sit for days.

But there were moments where he did strive and prove himself as well. Each day a servant could request that Loki do one of the chores assigned to them. Stark did find this a good lesson in responsibility and knowledge of how a large estate should be run. Much of this was work Loki had never done before and thus had little know-how of what he might be required to accomplish. The servants were not unkind to him for his ignorance, and showed him how to complete a task. But once shown it was expected that he did as always try for perfection. He scrubbed the floor on his hands and knees, using a brush that was attached to a muzzle for nearly three hours, the maid so grateful to be relieved of this exhausting task that she continually praised his work and petted him sweetly.

Loki was taught by the chef how to prepared Stark’s favorite treat, an apple and cinnamon tart with a flaky crust. It took him many attempts to perfect this, and though the chef had little patience and a strong arm, Stark seemed to take it with good humor and ate even the worst of the mistakes with gusto.

And always, as long as he did try, there were Sundays.

Each Sunday, Stark awoke him early and bade Loki prepare a lunch for them. He harness his pet, mounted his horse, and they were off to the meadow, not to return till late afternoon. Sometimes they merely played, Stark putting through his paces as though he were a show pony, right up to giving him sugar cubes for a well done performance. Other times they lay on the blankets and were simply content in the existence of one another, master and pet.

And yes, yes they did copulate most vigorously whenever the mood did strike.

One day, a little under two months into his lessons, Loki received a letter from his dear mother, announcing that they would soon come to pay him a visit. He was both nervous and thrilled at the prospect, and Stark agreed to hosting a fine dinner in honor of their arrival. Two days hence, the young lord stood waiting, dress in his best breeches and waistcoat, noting on how strange it felt to again be wearing clothing and greatly comforted by the presence of his collar underneath when there was a knock at the great door. He did not bother the servants to get it but in his excitement ran to open it and greet the family he had not seen in so long.

His brow furrowed in surprise to see their family bodyguard, Heimdall standing before him, his countenance grim. He carried a letter, baring his father’s sigil in red wax and handed it to Loki. The young lord cracked it open and was brought to his knees by the emptiness it’s words filled him with. He did not even notice as Stark descended the stairs, dressed in his best to greet his charges family.

“This cannot be.” Loki insisted, looking to Heimdall in pleading tones. “Please tell me this cannot be.” Stark held back from going to him only so as to maintain the illusion being upheld. Heimdall shook his head sadly, acknowledging that indeed, what he read was true. Loki’s mouth when dry and he could no more find words.

“Good sir, please, would you tell me what has my pupil so troubled?” Stark asked, not so rude as to intrude upon the private nature of the letter itself.

“I cannot speak as to the private business of the Odinson family.” Heimdall said officially, though his face betrayed his pity of the fallen youth.

“As I suspect the problem is family born and since it was his family who chose to charge me with his care and education, I claim the right to at least some knowledge of what has just transpired.” Stark insisted, his eyes on the vacant look of despair Loki now carried.

The bodyguard seemed to debate this but finally nodded. “There is no harm I can see on informing you that the lady Frigga and young lord Thor will not be attending tonight.”

“This is not so bad a thing. Perhaps there has been a delay. When then might we expect their company?” Stark insisted, trying to give comfort as he could not touch the in in front of Heimdall.

This did seem to make the guard uncomfortable. “If I am to interpret correctly, lord Odin has forbidden visitation, awaiting approval of his…” and at this he paused, looking quite displeased. “…his exclusion from the family line of Odinson.”

“What?” Stark’s temper fumed. “But his lessons are not yet over! I was promised six months with which to improve him. It has been but two.”

“I cannot speak as to lord Odin’s mind. However if I were to say that there is considerable leaning upon his lordships mind by his financial barristers, I would not be announcing opinion but fact. And if I were to say that the lady Frigga is most furious and the young lord Thor more so, it would be just as truthful.” Heimdall’s tone did not change, but conveyed this information as though reporting news.

“This cannot be.” Loki whimpered and hung his head in his hands.

“Is it finalized then?” Stark asked, trying to find some manner of consolation.

“It is not. The paperwork has been signed, but Odin does hesitate to officiate it with the witness and seal. The fate of Loki Odinson hangs by a thread, and all are sure he will cut it himself.”

Stark shook himself, enforcing composure. “Thank you for your candor and knowledge. You are a credit to your position.” He ensured and gestured for Heimdall to be seen to, his horse fed and cared for before he headed back to the Odinson estates. The moment he was gone from sight, Stark turned to Loki. “Little Prince…”

“No! No what right now have I to be called that name?” He moaned vacantly, the fury so thinly veiled. “I am all but abandoned! All it would take is one signature and a stamp of my father contemptuous hand and I am nothing in this world!” Loki screamed, tearing the leather to shreds in his rage and turmoil. “What is the point of this>” He threw his arms open to his surroundings. “What is the point of my suffering? Of my humiliation and depravity if not to satisfy the confines of my father’s demands on me?” His voice raised to terrible heights, frightening the servants and sending them scurrying from the room.

“Loki!” Stark’s voice barked in demand. “Contain your rage! You do a disservice to yourself!”

“You contain it!” He roared in retaliation. “You contain it! I cannot! I know not how!” Loki’s words were full of both threats and supplication. He truly had no control left. The young man’s emotions were laid bare as he screamed out his destruction at the hands of parchment and ink. “Please!”

Though he pleaded to be restrained, Stark knew of but one way to give this to him. He knelt to the floor and took his Little Prince in his arms. Though Loki struggled in his savage loss, Stark would not rebuke him for it. He held the youth tightly, both hugging and captivating him. He would not allow Loki to thrash about hatefully and do harm to himself. Stark forced his charge to relent, pressing his head into the crook of his arm and letting him scream out his sorrows. His master did not attempt to silence him, but let the wailing and gnashing of teeth continue until Loki was wore out and limp against him.

“What shall I do?” Loki sobbed out, grasping Stark’s shoulders as he was lifted. “Oh god in heaven what shall I do?”

“Rest.” Stark ordered and carried him up the stairs. “Be silent and rest.” He took Loki to the bathroom and undressed him with such care and delicacy it was as though the clothing fell from him. He cradled and coaxed the tears out into the bathwater, letting his pet soak as long as he wished. When Loki was done, Stark towel dried him and massaged his limbs and hair with oils, then brought him to the bed, laying him down and allowing the young lord to cave into his masters body. For a time they lay still, till Stark found his words. “I know how this must feel to you.”

“You do not.” Loki insisted. “You do not and cannot.” He flinched a little when Stark lifted his hand, but great relief flooded him when the palm touched him softly.

“I do.” Stark repeated. “Shall I speak to you of my own upbringing? Shall I tell you of poor Anthony Stark, who’s father cares more for his business than his son? Of how I was quickly shipped off to boarding school, brought home only for the briefest of holidays and at long last for good when he passed?” He scoffed a little, his own bitterness remembered. “I will not trouble you with details, not when your own sorrow is still fresh. But believe me please when I tell you I understand your fury.”

“I do not know what I should do. I do not want this to be true, yet it would seem clear.” Loki sat up, tucking his legs close to his chest. “It is all but done. My family would not even come to tell me this themselves, but send a messenger to do the dirty work.”

“It does not sound decided to me. It sounds as though your father is under the bewilderment of poor lawyers and foolish judgments.” Stark chuffed and rolled his eyes vividly. “We shall see what comes from this development. But until then, there is still much you need to accomplish.”

“To what end?” Loki fumed, rising from the bed and holding himself tightly. “What is the point of this now. Why continue with the lessons? Why allow myself to continue with such humiliation and strangeness?”

“Can you find no reason but your inheritance to remain here?” Said his master in dulcet tones. “None at all” And Loki heard the hurt and hope of Stark’s voice and felt a stirring in his chest. “Do not be confused. But let me give you some measure of peace for now. Be the fates as capricious as ever, there is more to your lessons then the discipline your father wishes of you. There is much I might show you that would benefit you as an independent. You have such strength of character Loki, such a drive to prove yourself, even if it the road is long and difficult. And failing that, nothing has been decided yet. Have some faith in your mother and brother. I do not believe they will allow Odin to so easily dismiss you as his son.” Stark wrapped his hands around the youth’s shoulder and gave him a comforting smile. But should the worst come to pass, you will not be left adrift in this world. My doors stand open to you, there will always be a place for you at my side.” Loki let Stark hold his face and everything in his body gave over to it. Their forehead’s touched and a warmth spread through his being. “Do this for yourself. Not for me. Not for your father. Not for your inheritance. I ask of you, continue the lessons for yourself, if only to prove forever that you are strong enough to do so.”

He was still full of trepidation and fear, but Loki nodded. Stark smiled sympathetically and took the collar, sliding it back on from the bath. It might seem such a strange thing, but the possession of it, the firm weigh about Loki’s neck gave him a feeling of acceptance and belonging which was desperately needed in this moment. Again he was pulled into his masters bed, but they did not tumble with one another. He was given the satisfaction of Stark’s arm holding him close, the gratification of knowing that someone was there for him, even in the most strange of circumstances.

***

He did not wish to rise and do his duties the next morning, but Stark made him. When his stubbornness revealed itself once more, his Sir showed no fear in reminding him of his place here. It was difficult, but he felt the rich stirrings of his need as Stark turned Loki over his knee and applied his hand with quick, firm slaps. Loki bit his lower lip as he was bent into Supplication and Stark smiled down at him.

And he felt a little better.

Loki’s chores were not lifted, nor was any leniency show to him if he allowed himself to be so distracted. But this was all well done. It benefited him to have such a weighty burden lifted from his shoulders. There was little he could do about it at any rate. If his father had indeed intended to be rid of him, it was already done and he would not be permitted to return to his home. If the papers still remained on Odin’s desk, he would have to trust on Thor and Frigga to halt the process.

In the meantime, Stark drove him harder into his work. Many of the old mannerisms he had been taught in his early etiquette lessons were being reviewed now, reminding him to maintain such grace and poise as was expected by his breeding. Stark held a special lesson in mind for the day, and Loki would be expected to comply. “A frame such as yours should be made into its finest attributes.” He insisted as ordered Loki to stand with his arms behind his head, a familiar position. The young lord was facing a well shined mirror, the entire length of his naked body oiled till it shone. “I mean to decorate you, Little Prince, and to show you just how magnificent you are.” There was a look of thrilling intensity in Stark’s eyes as he opened a gift box, delivered this morning by messenger from a shop in London.

Loki gave a sharp intake of breath to see the beautiful present bought for him. A lovely corset of green and gold jacquard fabric, whale boned and finely wrought. It was clearly of quality craftsmanship, yet looked far too small for his waist. “Sir, will it fit?”

“That it shall.” Stark assured him as he laid it about the slim Loki’s waist. “Since I will tighten it till it does so.” Indeed it was too small by a good two inches, but Stark was no slouch. He gripped the ties firmly in his fists, delighting in how his charge gasped and blushed to be so bound. Harder and harder, tighter till the waist cinched and narrowed, proving Loki was rounded hips and the figure of an hourglass. “Now then, the shoes next I think.”

There were high and narrow things, these heeled boots strapped to his feet. He teetered on them as Stark struck him with the crop, warning Loki to maintain his balance or suffer punishment. The youth took several careful steps, forced to consider every movement as a leash was attached to his collar and he was strode through the main hall, realizing that Stark meant to walk him about in this manner for some time.

Then a voice sounded through the manor that brought both master and pet to a halt.

“I demand to see him! He is my brother! If Odin himself cannot keep me from him then I doubt strongly you might!” It was Thor, standing there at the door, looming over a stalwart Jarvis who seemed determined to deny him entry. He had obviously ridden there in the rain, his traveling coat soaked and his blond hair clinging to him. “Bring him to me! I will not have him think this foolish business of inheritance to be his fault!” And then, the elder brother saw him.

There was nothing for it. There they stood, Loki bound and humiliated and erect, held by the leash in Stark’s hand.

For a moment there was silence. Though to Stark’s great credit he lost none of his pride standing there.

“What farce is this?” Thor said without understanding. “Is this some prank? Some ill-conceived jest? I warn you now Stark this is in poor taste.” The blond insisted, coming forward with fists coiled into tight rage.

“This, young lord, is the manner of your brothers continued education.” Stark’s voice did not waver, nor did it seem to offer excuse or apology. Loki, for his part, could not find words to speak. He had, after all, not been asked to do so.

Thor’s blue eyes darted from his brother to the man holding his sway. “This is…perversion! Sickness!” he roared, his muscles tightening as a vein stood out on his handsome brow. “Do you think because my father has all but thrown him aside that you may treat him as you wish? I will not stand for this Stark!” he made to reach for Loki, who could not help but pull back in fear and apprehension.

Stark stood between them quickly. “As I understand it, your father has not yet cast Loki aside. And though you are his heir, I cannot yet allow for your word to take precedent over his. As far as Odin has told me, Loki is to remain here under my charge for his self improvement, which I can assure you is coming along nicely.” Thor’s mouth stood agape as he could not grasp what was occurring. “I am sorry, but until Odin speaks otherwise, Loki stays here, as he was instructed to do.”

“That will be all too easy to procure, when I tell my father, our father of my brothers mistreatment at your hands!”

“No!” It was the first words Loki had spoken, and though he might later find punishment for speaking out of turn he could not help it. Both men turned to see his face, a mask of desperation. “No, brother! Please I beg of you! Tell no one of this!”

“But, Loki, this is unnatural! What perversions has he brought down on you? What has he made you do in this den of sin?” His greater brother pleaded with him.

“Nothing I would not desire him to do, even when I did not know it to be my own needs.” He was answered. “I know it would seem a strange and insane thing, but I promise you this is in truth what I need.” Loki looked at his master, who moved aside that they might speak. “I am more now than I was before. In but two turns of the moon I have learned so much. I have been made to know that I am so much stronger than I thought.” He gave a weak smile and his green eyes asked for mercy. “But I could not bare the shame of the manner of my education becoming public. Nor could our family withstand the social loss. It would break me in the eyes of our father and I would not be welcome even should you bring me back.”

Thor could not deny the truth of it, but nor could he leave his brother at this wicked man’s mercy. “You!” He pointed to Stark. “I know not what spell or bewitchment you have on my brother, but I will not stand for it.” He took off his riding glove and struck the lord of the house across the face with it. “I challenge you to a duel, sir. I will have my family reunited and you punished for your dishonoring of my brother.”

Stark’s face turned back to give Thor the attention of his eyes. “I accept your challenge sir, but with one condition.”

“Name your terms, villain.” His voice was a growl of barely contained fury.

“If you win and make me cry mercy, you will of course take your brother to his home. If you draw first blood I will not only go with you, but admit my transgression and be properly chastised for it. But if I stand over you and have you cry mercy, he must remain here with me until his education is completed in four month’s time. Added to this, should I draw first blood on you, sir Thor, you will remain the night, so that I might lecture you in turn.” Stark’s voice carried a soft danger to it, thinly covered by his own anger.

“I accept.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: INCOMING FEELS
> 
> Also, debating where to take this from here. Should we follow with Thor and see what happens? Or do we stay with Loki and leave Thor to recount what transpired at a later date?

The field was misty and green in the early morning light of the countryside. Out of concern for his emotional state of being, Stark had forbidden Loki to attend, commanding the servants to keep the young man at the manor by whatever means necessary. He had pleaded most sweetly and insisted all he could, but now was not the time for silly games. This was serious business to attend to.

Such was the weight of this matter that seconds were called. Stark noted the way Clint raised an eyebrow as he stood next to Thor. Surely he knew the reason for this duel of his own experience, but Thor had spoken to no one on the matter at hand. He had only explained that insult had been given to his family and that Stark was the reason. That was sufficient to bring Clint to assist him. Stark had brought Jarvis as his second, though it was not common to do so. They had decided upon foils to do this dirty work, for the intent was to wound rather than kill or main. It had been Thor in the end who had wished for blades. He wanted the satisfaction they brought.

The town magister had been brought to ensure that the legal requirements were fulfilled. If he had any knowledge as to the catalyst for this duel, his said not, but conducted his duties most efficiently. “Before this is to begin, I must ask, does either gentleman wish to call of?”

“Nay!” spoke Thor, his hatred of this man unabated.

“Nay.” Spoke Stark, his face calm as a cats.

“Then I shall remind gentleman that this duel is for the sake of insulted honor and thusly not to the death. Shall first blood be drawn by either party, you may call off or sit fit to continue upon your word if the insulted party has been satisfied by this. If not, then the duel shall commence until one or the other of you lays flat on the ground and cries Mercy. Upon this action the other man must drop his blade and declare the feud ended. Should this duel result in death for either man, a fee must be remitted to the tune of 25 sovereigns to the local court for the troubles.” He looked to either man. “Do you accept this?”

“Yea.” Came from both parties.

“Then lay on.”

Stark was left to feint as Thor came at him! Such was the fury and intensity that he was to draw back, defending himself from the oncoming blows. Both men were well practiced with a blade, but when pride is at stake it is stunning how training and skill fall before rage. Thrust and parry, dodge and feint, they battled back and forth across the field, their seconds forced to keep up with them. Stark did hold his own, but Thor was the clear better of the two. He had attended lessons since he was a child and this was not his first combat. Stark had taken fencing merely as a lark in boarding school, and though he had practiced through boredom, this was his first match.

Stark knew he could not win this, but he saw his opening when the blond brother overextended his thrust. Stark ducked and pressed forward with the tip of the blade, a spattering of blood staining the white shirt. Thor bark in pain and pulled back, surprised to see his injury.

“Sir!” called the magister. “Do you wish to call off this fight?”

Thor would not give Stark the joy of seeing him reach for the prick of it. “I do not! Not till this base, rank charlatan is made to pay for his crimes.”

Stark would have none of it. He threw down his weapon and knelt, arms outstretched. “I cry mercy.”

“What? What trickery is this? You shall not, sir!” Thor roared, meaning to have his vengeance.

“I shall and I do. I have achieved what was needed.” Stark did insist and refused to pick up his blade.

“Stand varlet! Stand I demand it or I shall run you through!” Thor stood with blade poised, ready to strike.

“You shall not. By the contract we spoke, I have taken first blood. You are required by oath to attend my house tonight and allow me to speak to you on our matters. Kill me, and forsake your oath as a gentleman and a lord and dishonorable in the highest.” Stark knew he had lost the battle, but he had won the day. One such as Thor would never allow such disrepute to be brought to his own name. It was well played and Clint nodded his approval. Thor’s face was quite the sight as he threw down his blade and declared the contest over. What choice did he have? Stark gave his most charming smile and stood, brushing the grass from his knees. “Shall we then?”

***

Loki paced the floor, biting his knuckle as he awaited the arrival of both men. He wrung his hands and felt a frightful panic in his heart for he could not know which outcome might be more preferred. All could come to ruin with but a single wrong move. The servants had forbidden him to leave Stark’s room, though as Thor would be expected to return in one state or the other they had allowed him proper clothing. It felt itchy and constricting about his body and he did so desperately wish it gone.

The sound of the door opening downstairs alerted him and he slammed open the door of his master’s bedroom. His feet moved quickly as he came down the stairs and great was the relief in his heart to see both his teacher and his brother come through, looking only slightly worse for wear. It was no a conscience decision but a decision none the less as he flung himself into Stark’s arms, gripping tightly about him as he wept. “I was afraid, Sir!” he whispered, caring little at the surprise on his brother’s face. Stark wrapped arms around him and comforted him, shushing the fears there.

“Hush, Little Prince. Hush. All is well. Though your brother has suffered some injury by my hands.” He asked Jarvis to bring medical supplies and see to the wound. Thor was not bleeding profusely, but it needed to be cleaned soon. For his part, Loki’s brother seemed silent, not wishing even to look his younger sibling in the eyes. “I think perhaps his pride stings worse.”

“Sir, what has happened? Please tell me…”

Thor snapped around. “This foolishness is over. You will leave for home with me as soon as my business with Stark is concluded.”

Disbelief flooded his eyes and Loki felt faint. All was lost to him, and he felt dizzy. So sick with worry had he been that he had not taken breakfast. The room spun and the last thing he saw was the faces of Stark and Thor reaching for him as he fell to the tiling. It was Stark whose arms reached longest and held Loki before he could strike his head. Perhaps it was the familiar sensation of him, perhaps the scent of his body or warmth, but Loki moaned out his tutors name as he was carried up the stairs. Thor grunted furiously at this, but was ignored. “He has taken fever.” Stark said with a worried tone. “Jarvis, call for Dr. Banner. He can be here quickest.” Stark hurried up the stairs with his charge, Thor clamoring up to ensure the safe congress of his brother.

“This your doing, Stark. What vile method have you used to bring about his fall?”

“It is no vile doing but stress and worry.” Stark insisted. “He has been hard taxed these last two months, and along with that has come his fear of abandonment, then your sudden appearance! All his secrets exposed and brought to light. All his fears realized? Who could say they would stand on steady feet in such conditions?” he kissed the top of Loki’s head and covered him gently. “Banner will be here in short order, and I mean to have words with you in the study. Let us go so as not to distress him further.”

Thor was escorted to the study where tea and cakes were brought to calm their nerves. But the elder brother was in no fit state to be calmed. He ranted, railed and threatened. He barked as though a dog ready to attack at the lord of the house until Stark finally managed to shake his head in irritation. “Be at peace, lord Thor!” he spoke sharply. “You accomplish nothing by this display of foolishness. You have already won. I can do nothing to prevent you from taking Loki back with you to his rightful home, if his home it still remains.”

“Then bring him to me! We have doctors. We can tend his needs.”

“Can you? Can you indeed? Can you fulfill what he truly desires? I would be greatly confused and somewhat put off if you, his brother, did volunteer such services.” The implication alone was enough to quiet the blond sibling and make him turn bright red. “I thought not.”

“He does not need this.” Thor began again. “How can he allow for this? The Loki I know has never bowed to the whims of another. He has never allowed one to have control over his actions. Why then give it to you?”

“The truth I would tell if you would but sit and be calm for a moment! Ranting around my manor is not fit conduct for a future lord.” He took a sip of tea and set down the cup. Thor allowed himself to be settled into a chair properly and pressed a confused hand to his temple. Stark sighed, taking it upon himself to further the education of this man. “Now listen to me carefully young Thor. At the moment, Loki is in no fit state to travel and I would not suggest it. So we have plenty of time to discuss his arrangements. Remember, at the very least, that it was your own true father who decided upon this. And as such, should you bring him home without permission, you might well face the wrath of Odin.”

“I can handle my father.”

“Can you? Have you handled this mess, this indecency with Loki’s inheritance?” Stark question imperiously.

Thor looked embarrassed. “That was a mistake I assure you. It will pass if Loki is permitted to return and shows himself compliant and well behaved.”

“Ah! So it can be undone. Not by you, it would seem, but only by Loki’s own deed? Therein lies the troubles. Alone, Loki cannot control himself, at least not yet.”

“And you are somehow teaching him this? Through your debauched games and sinful congress?”

Stark nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes. When I humiliate him and he perseveres with dignity, it will be much more difficult for him to lose face in the future. When he is brought to the heels of others who might typically be set beneath him, he is reminded that he is not so high that he cannot be brought low. This teaches him respect. Each game and action has a purpose, which he is learning to see. Even when I punish him, it only shows him that I do care enough to correct his actions. That I pay attention to his actions in the first place and do not merely wash my hands of him when he is poorly behaved.” The teacher raised an eyebrow at Thor. “I believe he has had more than enough of that.”

Thor chuffed and curled his lip most irritably. “You would have me believe that this is to his benefit? That somehow he is responsive to your treatment of him?”

“He is. Already he has learned so much and come so far. I do believe that, if he is allowed to remain here for four months time, he will return to your household a well-mannered, respectful young man.”

Thor squeezed his fists tightly. “So that you might continue your perversions on his body? Never!” As though called down by him, thunder struck outside, flashing through the room. Rainstorms were common through this part of the country in later spring, and this one looked to be wicked indeed.

Stark heaved a sigh. “Very well. I am a man of my word. But seeing as how the storm has come in, I would strongly advise you not to travel the dangerous roads today. You are of course welcome to my home until the time comes for your departure.” He rang a bell and Jarvis attended them. “Please, prepare rooms for our guest. I suspect he would appreciate it if his brother is left in his own care, so have Loki moved to a room with him, gently.”

“As you will Sir. We have sent our fastest horseman for Dr. Banner. He should arrive by evening.” Jarvis informed him and Stark nodded.

“I will carry him.” Thor insisted, following after the butler as Stark closed his eyes.

It was not till the two of them were well away that the lord of the house could speak freely for himself. “Oh my sweet Little Prince…what shall I do now?”

***

Loki awoke to his brother’s smiling face watching over him. The reaction was not as Thor expected. He jolted from the bed, despite the rush of a headache and felt only a little bit better when he realized he was still at Stark’s manor. “Brother, you have changed your mind? You mean to allow me to remain with Sir…Stark?”

Thor could not have been more laid low by any other words. “Sir? You call him this? Why?” His brother demanded to know.

“I…it is a term of respect is it not? I do respect him, greatly. When he demanded it of me it felt right to reply as such.” Loki attempted his explanation. “I know this would seem strange and unfit. I know it would seem a wild and terrible thing, all that you see. But you cannot begin to understand…”

“I do not. I understand nothing of this!” Thor pleaded with Loki, his mind attempting to wrap itself around all that had occurred. “Loki, brother…tell me true. Has he…has he violated your body?” Loki turned so red a shade and tucked into his own body so fiercely that Thor could interpret the answer as nothing else. “I will end him!” he yelled and went for the door.

“No! Thor please! I beg of you!” Loki pleaded. He stood from the bed and stumbled, still feeling quite ill. Thor, being a good and right brother halted in his revenge, aiding his brother back to the bed. The raven haired brother was still hot as Thor laid a hand to his cheek.

“Why? Why not? Please brother give me one reason not to end his miserable life and take you home?” Thor asked softly.

“Because I…” Loki gave pause. He knew what he would say, but he could not say it. It was far too dangerous for the state of his soul. “Because I am content here. He does me great improvement. And though his methods must seem strange indeed, have you ever seen me look so pleased? So joyful?” In truth he had not. Though he was ill, Thor had never seen Loki’s face so unworried. His eyes were not so hard and dismissive as they once had been. He did not sit so rigid and discomforted in another’s presence. One of the maids entered and gave Loki a bit of hot tea and a cold washcloth. “Thank you, Madame.” Loki said softly and the maid smiled. Thor could not have known that she normally would have petted his head, he could but remark that this was the first time Loki had ever spoken to a servant with such grace.

“Perhaps you have much changed. Perhaps not.” Thor agreed. “But this does not alter my course. I won the duel.”

“How then did you take injury?” Loki pointed out to the bandaged chest.

Thor held a hand to it. “I won the day, Stark won a wound. In exchange I had to stay and hear his reason for keeping you this way.” For the first time, Thor noticed the ring of leather about his brothers neck. “And what is this strange ornamentation?” he questioned and revealed it further. “Are you his dog? His pet to be kept as such?”

Loki wished to say yes, but his good sense held him back. “I am his student, his charge. Such as was commanded to me by my father. Cleave to him, he said, and I have obeyed as best I am able.”

“But not as this! Not as his whore!” The elder brother griped furiously just as a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. The man who walked in was an unassuming fellow with brown wavy hair and a doctor’s bag. He introduced himself as Dr. Banner and set about the task of ensuring Loki’s health.

“He is not ill, but does seem to have a fever. I suggest he not be moved for at least a few days till his temperature has settled.” Banner advised after a thorough examination. “It might exacerbate his condition.”

“No. No I think we leave in the morning regardless. My brother will survive one short trip to the manor.” Thor insisted again. He could not conceive of leaving his brother under the roof of Stark one moment longer than was needed. “Once the rain lets up we shall go.” Though it did not miss his notice how Loki seemed to fall into himself at those words. Where was the angry, spoilt Loki who would have railed at him?

It was lucky then, that the storm seemed determined to mimic his mood. It continued through out the rest of the day. Thor forbid his brother from leaving the room without him for fear that he might go back to Stark’s side. They took tea and dinner in the room together, each man eating quietly and speaking only when there was something worth saying. As a measure of protection, Thor laid down next to Loki when the time for sleep came.

So it rankled him to awaken at near the midnight hour and find his brother gone from their bed.

He rose in a foul temper, seeking out through the house where his errant sibling might have wandered to. Thor had not explored the manor so he was somewhat lost in its largeness. It was not until he saw a slim line of light and heard voices familiar to him that he was able to locate his quarry. As he did approach, the sound of their conversation halted him. Thor peered into the crack of the door, curious beyond explanation.

“You should not be here, Loki.” The voice was Stark’s, so full of concern and worry. “You are feverish and should remain in bed for your own good.” He insisted, the rustling sound of sheets telling Thor that this was the lord of the manors bedroom.

“Please, Sir. Do not make me leave your side until I must. The rain has ceased, and I am sure when my brother awakens he will take me home quick as a hawk. I would not leave without seeing you again, even if it is to my own torment.” Loki’s voice echoed with anguish and Thor could see his figure at the end of Stark’s large bed.

“You flatter me. Sincerely you do. But while you remain here you still are my charge. And I would be most errant in my duties if I did not enforce your own health to you, Loki.”

Oh do not call me that!” His voice hissed out with some of its old hatred. It then sounded more compliant and sweet to all ears. “Please. Please if I am to never be allowed your face again, do not deny me this night. Do not let me leave as the estranged Loki.” He sat on all fours, his hands gently caressing the legs under the covers. “Let me be remembered to you as your Little Prince.”

A soft, charmed sound of giving in answered this plea. “And then, my Little Prince? What then?” Thor could see two strong hands reach forward and touch his brother’s cheek pleasantly, lifting his head up to look into deep brown eyes. “If you might ask me for one favor, any favor you could, what would it be? What might I give you to remember your time here fondly?”

“You have already given it.” Loki stated. “But if I may be so permitted.” He paused and his hand reached between Stark’s thighs, fondling the great bulge there. “There is one thing you have not asked from me. Something that has flitted often through my thoughts as you gave me lessons. I would have that now, by your leave, Sir.”

“I would deny you nothing in this moment. But please be careful with yourself.” Stark insisted. Loki pulled the covers down and what might have been revealed to Thor’s eyes was now covered by the long black hair of his brother. The young man’s head descended upon it and a wet, suckling sound began to echo through the room.

This was lewdness! Debased and debauched! Thor could not remedy it within his head. Yet some warped perception forbid him to enter the room. It felt as though he would be intruding upon something so meaningful that his mere discovery of it was more obscene then the act itself. Even as he watched Loki’s head bob up and down, knowing full well what was occurring, he could neither tear himself from the scene or enforce himself to make it end. Hearing the moans of Stark, the soft, breathless whispers, the reaching of a hand to slowly bunch and stroke the thick black curls of the man between his thighs. It was almost artistry the way they seemed to writhe together.

“Loki.” The lords breathless joy warbled in the room.

“Nay, please. Sir, please call me as you would.”

A chuckle without malice or arrogance. “Little Prince.” And at this the young lords head began to quicken eagerly.

Thor could take no more and still call himself chivalrous. Yet still, even with his hand upon the knob of the door, he could not gain entry. Instead, quiet as he could, he returned to his guest room to think for himself on what he had witnessed. He was awake into the long hours of the morning, careful not to stir even when his sibling crawled back into bed, sighing contentedly as he went to slumber. What dreams filled that head, Thor dared not guess, but he could not help but let his mind turn over the imagery again and again.

***

“You mean this?” Loki’s voice could not contain it’s joy. “There is no falsehood? No games?” He took Thor by the shoulders and shook him. “Please, brother say to me you mean this!”

“Do not shake me so! Yes I speak true.” Thor promised as he stood at the manor doors. “I cannot speak as to what change has occur din me, but perhaps this would be the better solution. Until at least this matter with father is settled. And there is some truth in the damage this would do our families standing, were word to get out. You may stay, at least until I have father’s word that you may return home.” Thor did not expect the hug, the joyful, unbridled hug that held onto him. Loki had not wished for such close contact since they were small together, and it did bring some lightness to his heart that this was indeed the right decision.

“I believe then that you have duties to attend to.” Stark said with meaningful inflection. Loki brightened and it surprised Thor beyond comprehension that he ran to his chores, the maids and servants smiling and giving him quick pats on the head as though welcoming him back into the fold.

And Thor was left alone with Stark.

“You saw.”

“You knew.”

“I did.”

“I understand none of this. It is beyond me. Beyond all decency.”

“Would you grasp it then? Do you truly wish to understand the transformation your brother has undergone? The metamorphosis equal to the likes of Samsa?” Stark asked with all due sincerity.

“I would understand, at the very last, why he would chose it willingly. Why he would stay with you when his own family.” And Stark interrupted him with a through lashing undercurrent.

“Has all but abandoned him to the whim of fate? Tis true you would fight for him, and I do commend you on this. But even were Odin to relent, would Loki ever again feel welcomes in those halls? Did he ever feel truly at home there in the first place? I wonder.” The teacher shook his head, looking after Loki. “Six months I was promised. Two have passed. By our bargain you may I suppose speak on what you know to others, but I trust your discretion has been made more necessary. Give me at the very least what I was promised with him. If then this foul temper of Odin’s has passed, then he will have returned to him a fine and even tempered son as I did promise.”

“And what the, Stark? What if my father cannot be brought to change his mind? What future, what twist of serendipity have you left for my brother if he can not return home?” Thor insisted on knowing, though it pained him.

Stark did not answer for a long moment, as though well thinking things through before speaking. “You said you would understand this change in your brother?” He turned back to his guest. “Do you remember the Lady Sif from your father’s garden party?” Thor, for his own part, was greatly confused by this but nodded none the less. “If you would know your brothers mind, then I say to you, go to Sif. When she asks the reason for your sudden visit, tell her you would grant her any boon she asked, even if it meant to bow to her whim. Tell her that Stark told you to say this.”

“And then what, villain?” Thor spoke in curled toned.

“And then, my young lord, bow.”


	8. Chapter Eight

It was a strange thing, the manner in which their lessons came and went. Dr. Banner stayed for but a day more to ensure that Loki was in the best health to continue his tutelage, giving the distinct impression that he and Stark had known one another in a nature quite like the one in which he was currently entangled with Loki. There was a surge of strange emotion at this realization, but the young lord did not allow it to linger. For once a clean bill of health was given, Stark was eager to resume his Little Prince’s education.

Loki had been allowed much leniency due to his brother’s unexpected arrival, but it was now to be bought to task . The beautiful corset was laced against his skin even tighter now, and he could swear without fear of correction that the heeled boots were higher. He chewed the inside of his cheek as Stark gave him a stern lecture on poise and posture and corrected his with the sharp end of a crop. To add to his torment, a solid plug was burrowed between his lush cheeks and it ached beautifully with each step. Throughout the manor he was driven, back and forth till Stark was satisfied that he had not lost his desire to continue being taught. With sore feet and breathless gasps he was taken to the study where a new toy had been brought about for his reward.

It looked much as a rocking horse might if it was intended for an aristocratic adult. Made from oak and quite solid, it had a lovely dark shine to the finely carved features of a proud carousel horse. Stark pushed the head with his fingers and it rocked easily back and forth so that Loki might view the main difference. A phallus protruded from the saddle, long and thick and already coated. From above this twisted creation there hung a hoop with fitting leather gloves upon it so that his hands might be forced to remain there. Stark seemed quite pleased with this as he explained it to be his own invention for those of his association who had a like mind. Gently, carefully, he set his student upon it, lubricating the false cock well before lifting the Little Prince’s cheeks and splitting him on it till his bottom settled on the saddle.

Loki wailed meekly. There it was again. This strange and ineffable thing that occurred whenever their lessons came about. He was at the sight of this engineering deviousness stunned and terrified. When Stark had settled him onto it of course Loki had been awash with trepidation, humiliated to be put on display again. He mewled and groaned, knowing with all his heart that this was intended as a reward, though as Stark sat down upon a chair and looked at he, gesturing for him to begin rocking, it felt much like an amusement. He was hot, furious, scared and mortified and yet it all came from the same center in which he felt satisfaction, pride, joy and affection. In the moment of this predicament he resented and despised Stark and felt himself little better than a toy to be used at his masters discretion. And when it was over, which was not for nearly an hour by which time his thighs were so sore he could not lift himself from the saddle alone, Stark had but to touch him and smile, and all his world was made right again.

Loki began to wonder if there was any depth of depravity he could be brought to that would not merely make him want of Stark even more.

His Sir began to allow him small requests now that he was showing such promise to behave. Loki had been given every Sunday with which to be run out into the meadow and have his choice as to where he might wander there. He had also been allowed to know that his master would no more abandon him to the coiling frustration of sexual abandonment. In fact, Stark seemed to take great pride in milking him to completion each morning, for he would then aim the cock into a brandy tumbler so as to collect the semen. To this, he would make a deviant cocktail of whatever struck him as appropriate at the time. Wine, milk, honey, his own cock’s pleasure after being well suckled by Loki’s mouth. Into the glass it would mix and Loki would be made to open his mouth and drink it obediently.

Yet Stark was sure never to indulge his own whims too far. Oh he did often make use of Loki as the charge had requested, but each days lesson had to take on point and purpose otherwise what use was there of it? Besides, it provided for the young lord a much desired distraction from his troubles to be so put upon. It felt good to have this kind of soreness and heat again, and he gave himself to it thoroughly.

A few days later, Stark announced to him that he was considering a Midsummer Masque. “I have heard that such things are greatly popular in this country.” Loki nodded and when permitted to speak, mentioned that his parents friends usually held one. “I am sure it is a well-mannered and charming event. But I should confess to you, Little Prince, that my concept it somewhat different. I mean to have the invitations handed out to, eh, people of a like-minded frame. I have found many of them since my arrival here and would plan for us to get together and perhaps lean from one another. And to display the talents of our respective pets.”

The thought both thrilled and frightened Loki. Other masters! Other pets! How many like Stark could possibly exist in this world? Were they all liken to him, or did they more resemble the Lady Natasha? What twisted and libertine pleasures might become known at such a fete? Loki lapped at Stark’s hand and was permitted speech. “Sir, how might one prepare for this?”

“Oh I expect we’ll have a lot of work ahead of us. I have never had the need or desire to host an event before, but I do believe your experience shall be invaluable to me.” He petted Loki’s head and let the student sink to his knees to be stroked and given due affection. They were merely spending some quiet time in the library. Loki naked and at peace at his master’s heel, enjoying a short novel, Stark considering his business ledger and putting his house in order as was needed each month. It was often in these peaceable moments between them that Loki would realize he did not feel at all abnormal to be sitting as such. But rather it was as though this was his most natural state if being.

“I might be of some use to you there, Sir.” Loki offered. “Often I assisted my mother in planning galas and events. I know how best to procure what would be necessary for a fine party.”

“Indeed? Would you like for me to put you in charge of this then? I must admit I have very little concept of what a fine party might be. I was always more into taverns myself as a young man.” Stark ruffled Loki’s hair and the two smiled at one another. “Very well, I will leave this part to you Little Prince. Do not become headstrong though. Remember your place here and your duties.”

“I will be good, Sir. I promise this.” Loki smiled, his chest bursting with pride that his master would delegate such a task to him. For a little over two months now he’d had all but the most basic of responsibilities taken from his shoulders, as though he could not be trusted with anything more significant. It was a sign of trust and faith in his capabilities that Stark was allowing him to arrange the fete. And Loki had no intention of letting him down.

“With two small exception. I will leave the bulk of arrangements to your discretion; the decorating, the music, the food and such are all up to you. However, I am afraid the guest list, as well as the nights more productive entertainment must be under my care.” There was a glint in his eye, a sort of lewd mischievousness that Loki trembled to have directed towards himself.

A sudden realization came to him and Loki knew what it mean, though he did dread bringing it up. Stark had stood to find a new book and Loki crawled to him on all fours, lapping at his fingers with tender intention. “I will need to go into town, Sir.” He explained, blushing. “For a midsummer fete, local delicacies are typically required in large amounts. If I want to plan the meal, Sir, I need to know what produce is available.”

Stark hummed and nodded. “Yes I believe so. Very well, I shall arrange for you to be taken into town.”

“Sir.” Loki whispered with great nervous tension in his body. “Will I be required to go as I am now?”

A loud laugh told Loki that he would at least be spared such humiliation for now. Stark assured him tenderly that he would go to town fully dressed. “While some of the folk here know of my predilections, most remain ignorant. Not to mention there are children within the village and I would not expose them to this.” He permitted Loki to stand and took him upstairs to a closet. “Still, I do believe this yet another opportunity to ensure your continued humility, Little Prince.” And from the wardrobe he took a maids garb, finely pressed and pretty in its own manner.

He was placed in the corset once more, though kindly Stark left off the heels. Into his tunnel was pressed a tight plug and a curved wooden cup which tucked his manhood in and gave him the mound of a woman once covered with undergarments. It was most undoubtedly increasing his humility, but he submitted dutifully. His thick, black locks, which Stark was so very fond of, were then brushed till they shone, and Stark put them up in a bun. Though it was quite uncommon, he was given a little bit of rogue along his cheeks, increasing the fine line of his high cheekbones and a little bit of lip pain. When the transformation was done he did hardly recognize himself in the mirror. “You are quite lovely in any manner, Little Prince.” Stark informed him. “Is there no way, no situation in which I will not find you infinitely attractive?” And Loki blushed at this an even deeper red.

He was sent to the market with Jarvis to discern the best dishes to have prepared and was delighted to find a suitable variety to utilize. Loki was dreadfully uncomfortable, sure that someone would know his face and form. And yet, though one or two people did seem to know his face from the orchard, for the most part they merely nodded and left him to do his business. Everyone seemed to think him as female as he appeared. Loki began instructing Jarvis, in the most polite and respectful manner, which market stalls to take down and what yield would be needed. He was finding some level of happiness in proving his competence at bargaining for good prices, it reminded him of his childhood, before his father had deemed it necessary for his household to conduct itself more as the lords of old.

Frigga had taken her children to market often. In their youths, he could not remember that they had been thought of as one of the poorest noble families around, due at most to their grandfather’s financial losses during the Crimean War. So they had not a steward nor proper butler to maintain such things. Frigga had done it all herself. Loki could remember being allowed to select taffy treats and fresh apples and made sure to find an excuse to include them on the list.

He was thoroughly enjoying himself as Jarvis went to go collect the weeks grocery list, agreeing to meet him back by the village fountain when the sun was high.

No sooner did Stark’s dutiful butler disappear into a shop, then Loki felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to see three men, perhaps a little closer to Thor’s age than his own, looking him over with tasteless obviousness. “You are from the house of Stark are you not?” one of them questioned him.

“I am.” Loki responses, unsure how to handle such a situation. Should he show the sort of respect Stark had trained him to? These men made him nervous, with their lewd stares and inappropriate closeness to his person. It was not that they were base born. But they seemed to loom over him.

“I heard he does all sorts of strange and crude things with his servants. Even the male ones.” Said the taller one.

“I saw it myself. He treats them like horses, making them pull and cart and such in a manner most beast like.”

“And does he make them mate with horses as well?” wondered one aloud with such a disgusting smile that Loki’s lip curled to hear his masters name so sullied.

Still, he managed to remember his respectful distance. “Forgive me, sirs.” And he could not manage to put any level of respect into his tone. “I must be off. Master Stark is expecting me back quite soon.” He took his parcel and left.

“What is your rush, miss?” Ah! So they too were fooled by this disguise. That was both blessing and bane. “Your parcels look heavy. Perhaps we can assist you with them.” He offered with false kindness and took the opportunity to pinch Loki’s rump most viciously.

The touch did not make him feel good, nor compliant, nor wanton. It made him feel dirty.

“I do not require your assistance, nor your company. Leave me be.” Loki kept tight control over his voice and moved away as one of the shop keeps barked at the young men to leave the ‘maid’ alone. When they turned to see who had halted them, he bolted, looking for where Jarvis might have headed. They were done here. Surely they could go home. But he was not familiar with this small town and became lost in the allies between houses. Sighing for not paying more attention, Loki turned to head back to the town square.

“Oy! Do not rush from us, maid.” The three men had returned, cornering him from view. Loki felt a panic in his heart and clutched his parcel close. “We mean you no harm. Just a little fun.”

“Aye. Come to the tavern for a drink with us. Then later, perhaps you can show us what Stark teaches his servants to do behind close doors.” And they chuckled together with poor intentions.

“You will be in great trouble for harassing on of Stark’s household.” Loki insisted. He had little on him in the way of a weapon, just a cheese knife he used to sample what might be best. Still he handled it in wait for their advance.

“Come now. We mean you no harm.” His tone was full of disrespect and so Loki no longer felt the need to give them any. He brandished the knife and backed away.

“She means to give us battle.” Another said and grabbed his arm easily, swinging him around and tossing him to the ground with an ugly chuckle.

To Loki’s humility he landed in such a way as to make his skirts fly up. While the tuck of his manhood night be covered, the protruding plug made itself all too obvious. There was a sound of shock from behind him and he made to cover himself. This they would not permit and hauled him up, pinning his arms and lifting his skirts for further inspection, laughing at him as they realized this was indeed a man they held.

And suddenly a familiar voice rang out.

“You there, what brass folly is this? Unhand him now!” It was Dr. Banner, whom he had interacted with only briefly at Stark manor. The young men dropped him and seemed chastened as Banner called them each by name, swearing that their mothers would be well ashamed at their behavior and cuffing them about the head and shoulders. Though he was a short and unassuming man, he brought down his fist with strict inflection. When the men ran off, bruised and one with a cut ear, Banner turned to the abashed Loki. “I know you.” He said, his voice strained as though angry with him. But Banner reached out his hand and his palm was gentle.

He took Loki to his house and tended the small scrapes and bruises with tender care. Banner was by nature a quiet man, though he did smile easy when Loki apologized for bringing such trouble. “It was the fault of those who accosted you most cruelly.” He bandaged the injury. “Sir would be most upset if he knew this.”

It was the first time he had ever heard of someone referring to Stark as Sir, besides himself. It came as such a shock that Loki did feel a strangeness inside him that threatened to boil over. “I see that you are more familiar than at first I realized, Sir.”

Banner’s smile was most amiable. ‘You need not with me. Here I am merely Dr. Or even Bruce if you would prefer something more familiar. And you can simply be Loki.” He promised, the silent actuality that he would not reveal this little indiscretion to Stark comforted Loki greatly in his presence. “How long have you been under his sway and affections?” And Loki told him. “I see, and does your brother know the full span of Stark’s intentions with you? The berth of what his lessons entail?” And when the answer was yes, Banner seemed more curious than before. “And yet he permitted you to stay. But a strange an unusual relationship you maintain with your siblings. But I shall digress. I cannot believe you here alone. Jarvis is somewhere in the village yes? Then we shall to him.” And he took Loki to Jarvis, a hand on his shoulder in the most comforting and caretaking of ways.

Jarvis, for one, did not seem at all surprised to see Loki in Banner’s care. He thanked the doctor most generously and assured him that Stark would most likely wish to thank him personally for such chivalry.

“I would not wish to impose upon Sir. Stark.” Banner corrected himself.

“If I do remember correctly, my master did explain upon your departure that you were welcome to return to his manor at any time. And indeed that he would welcome you most eagerly.” Jarvis’s lips turned up in a most convincing smile. “I shall tell him to expect you for dinner I think.”

Banner smiled most submissively, as though he knew this was not a truly being asked of him, but rather required. “Still at six I believe.”

“Tardiness is never excusable.” There was a fondness to this exchange, a level of familiar banter that left but one conclusion for anyone truly aware to draw.

Loki did feel a pit open wide in his stomach. He spoke not of it. Not to Jarvis nor to Stark when they returned home. The pit grew heavy as Stark seemed truly delighted at Jarvis’s presumption of an invitation. His master took notice of this and smiled, as though he had confirmed something in his mind. “Do not feel amiss my pet.” He tucked Loki close into his body. “You were well taken care of and I am proud of you for the manner in which you conducted yourself. However, should something like this occur again, I would strongly advise discounting all my lessons and reacting in a manner which might better keep you safe.” He kissed Loki’s forehead tenderly and inspected him, ensuring every last scrape and bump had been properly cared for. Somewhere in the scuffle, the toy had become lost, but Stark did not mourn its passing. He was more concerned on the state of his pet.

When Banner showed, Loki was all too aware of that which he would rather not know for certain. As Stark walked down the stairs there was a twitch at Banner’s knees and Loki knew well the instinctive need to bow in front of him. Dinner went splendidly, the conversation kept light as the young lord was made to serve them both in the buff. Perhaps it went unnoticed, but each time he came close to Banner, the good doctor would cough and not look directly at the naked and neatly restrained Loki.

He tried to focus on the task at hand. Apparently, the corset was a favorite decoration of Starks, for this time he added to it a pair of leather arm binders which increased the necessity for him to concentrate on balance. Each serving tray had a handle on it which was made to be bitten down on and carried. Loki had severed each course in this manner and was quite pleased with himself for not having spilt a drop. After dinner, there was of course brandy in the study and again Loki served.

“I wish to thank you graciously for your assistance with my pet today. I would not have him hurt for all the world.” Stark caressed Loki’s backside softly, making him arch into the firm hand.

“I do not require any thanks. I was more than happy to help. I know all too well the risk inherent in these lovely games you do play.” Banner shifted uncomfortably in his seat, licking his lips without thinking on what he was doing. Stark noted this with great interest. He instructed Loki to bring a new brandy to Banner, holding the tray in wait as he stood there, knowing that Banner could not keep his eyes off the pretty, pale flesh.

“I am sure you are quite curious as to my friendship with Dr. Banner, are you not, Little Prince?” Loki blinked most obviously, acknowledging that he had been. “You see the good doctor here has often been plagued by a troublesome physical malady. It has prevented him from engaging in regular activities of a certain nature for many years. He came to me after meeting some of my associates with the same talents and was directed that my area of expertise would be most fit to his desires.” Banner’s teeth chewed into his lower lip and he clenched his hands. “I was of course happy to oblige.” He looked to his young charge and smiled quite sublimely. “Have you thanked Dr. Banner for his rescue of you?”

Loki nodded gently, being sure not to ruin the tray.

“Would you care to thank him in a more intimate nature?” Banner stiffened in every sense of the term and shook his head as though it were not necessary. Then to the great surprise of both men, Loki nodded his intention. “Then be between his thighs. I would see this for myself.” Banner seemed to be unable to refuse such an invitation. Down did Loki slide till his knees were on the floor and Banner looking to him with a near pleading expression. At Stark’s behest he bent forward and undid the trousers with his lips, cleverly sliding the clasp from its hook. His teeth found the hem of his pants and pulled down, curious as to what might be beheld.

His eyes widened greatly as the manner of Banner’s difficulties was revealed to him great length and girth.

“As you can see, Dr. Banners enlarged state would make it somewhat difficult to be satisfied, at least via traditional methods. None the less, my Little Prince, I would very much like for you to try.” Banner moved as though to prevent this, but Loki did not wish to be halted. It took both palms merely to handle him properly, and though he might try and try heartily, Loki could not manage even the head into his opened lips. For his part, the good doctor seemed quite embarrassed over the effort being put into him, and it gave Loki a sense of thrilling power. He used his tongue, thinking on how best to manage the cock.

When Banner’s hand wrapped helplessly in his hair, Loki did encourage him through soft moans. When he heard the direct grunt of pleasure, Loki shivered to realize he was the cause. He could not look behind him to see if his master was pleased with his work, but he truly did hope so. From head to base he worked, giving it all his dedication and was much gratified when the good doctor began to pant and give in. the salty drop of pre heat began to flavor his mouth and he pushed himself further.

“It has been too long hasn’t it my Great Hulk?” Stark said in downy tones. “I told you it would be better to take such matters into your own hands rather than go without. It only makes your aggressive tendencies more volatile.”

“There is but little opportunity for relief.” Banner gasped out as Loki tended to his needs.

“I have been told there are many who would willingly submit to your, ah, leviathan complaint.” Stark reminded him as though it were a simply matter. “Natasha has even offered most graciously that she might train one for you if you do so fear doing injury to them.” But Banner did not seem to wish for this as he shook his head and closed his eyes, now entirely enthralled with Loki’s deed. Stark gave a chuckle and stood, pouring oil on his fingers in generous proportions. “Now then, my Great Hulk, arms to your side.” His tone of voice changed the very air of the room. Banner’s arms sank down to his sides and he did not seem to dare move. Loki paused but long enough to gasp his surprise when slickened fingers began to enter and stretch his opening. Slowly, very slowly and quite carefully, his master opened him, constantly using the oil to liberal amounts. When at last he had judged things well prepared, he gave Loki such an order as to make him wince preemptively.

And yet.

Oh how he wanted to try!

Banner’s mouth dropped open as he was straddled in the way one might mouth a horse. Stark did not remove his hands but held to bring them to line, holding Loki’s cheeks open and gently bringing him down for the sake of balance and support. “Sir.” The doctor breathed out as though he doubted the capability of the young charge. Loki felt so insulted by this he almost pushed himself down. But Stark was far wiser and held his grip firm.

Then came the splitting. The sound which erupted from Loki’s mouth was inhuman and he sobbed instinctively as it opened him. Banner leaned forward to give comfort, yet still obedient to Stark’s word, kept his hands locked to his sides. He pushed his forehead to Loki’s bare chest and began to lick with soft, soothing strokes. The master of both men gently allowed for time and stretching before pushing further. Each push brought them in greater contact and Loki trembled from the futility of his own bodies resistance.

At long last he could take it no deeper without hurting himself. How deep was the ache! How expanded he felt from the inside out! Stark permitted Banner to release his arms from imposed bondage and instructed the doctor to use Loki to his advantage. It was clear how much self control it took for Banner to resist pounding in with no concern. Each time those muscular, forceful arms lifted the lean frame up and down he did strain, his eyes perhaps begging Loki for a little forgiveness for his conduct.

Loki had none to give. He could not even think beyond the blinding white lite in his eyes. Even at his most aware during this wild and widening congress he could only just remember that Stark was holding his thighs, giving his assistance and whispering fond words of gentle encouragement. When at long last there was a bursting within his body and Loki could feel that he would not, could not, hold it all inside. Banner gave a sound like a lions roar and gripped his forearms to the point of bruising, though not with such foul intention.

Loki gave such a feeble cry and tried to fall forward. As the orgasm ended both gentlemen reached to hold him, tenderness overflowing to care for the resilient Little Prince. Stark allowed Banner to hold him affectionately as the cheeks were pulled off his manhood and the dripping wet chasm revealed. “You have all the pretty, delicate sheen of an opened oyster.” Stark chuckled lewdly and slipped his fingers in to toy with the tenderness. “And look! Such pretty pearls you have made for us!” His indecent thoughts were made more apparent as Stark put his mouth to the gape and began to drink Banner’s leavings, cleaning his pet entirely despite every gasp and mewl against the tender area.

The Little Prince had nothing left. He was but barely coherent of his lavish surroundings as Banner and Stark tended to his fragile figure. A voice in his ear whispered a dear and sincere thank you for his efforts. “Most satisfying.” The voice sounded greatly relieved, as though this was the most at ease Banner had felt in months. Stark hummed in conclusion, petting the both of them affectionately as he told his Great Hulk not to forget Loki’s commendation for such good work. Strong, large hands found his pale shaft, which while not as impressive as Banner’s still stood on its own with distinction. His need was quickly spilt, and Banner drank it obediently as though taking communion.

Sleep was less an urge and more of an inevitability. Even Banner seemed to relish being placed on the pallet to hold the sweet Loki against his frame and together they slumbered peacefully into the first cocks crow of morning.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I know I had people out there dying for an update. Things got busy here and I had a visiting relative so not a whole lot of time for smut writing.

Though he did rise to the occasion once or twice through-out the night, it was obvious that Stark had done a marvelous job in the training of Dr. Banner. He held Loki close, as though silently gracious for the relief of his body, but not once did he attempt to penetrate again. Poor Little Prince was extremely grateful for this, and had it not been for Starks imposing of self-restraint, he might have turned around and used his palms and lips to help the man. There was something terribly sweet about him, which made Loki at least a little sympathetic to his plight. Not that he would wish to be made to rut with the good doctor on a regular basis! Even in the morning he could feel the soreness and strain through his bottom and he winced as he went through the morning poses. Banner was quite kind and provided a salve which, when applied, soothed the burning and numbed him pleasantly. Banner could not stay of course. He had his own duties to attend to within the village and could not be held up, no matter how pleasant the distraction. Stark was sure to give him an invitation to their midsummer fete, promising it to be an event worth attending.

Despite the interruption, Loki had done well, and begun to decide upon the courses and décor needed, impressing his master to the point of feeling somewhat pleased with himself. Stark informed him there was much work to do, and but a month and a half with which to do so. “And, to be direct, Little Prince, there is also much work to be done with you. Do not misinterpret, you have made great strides in your tutelage. I am more proud of you then I have been with any pet.” And Loki mentally preened his ego. “But if I am to host, you must be nothing less than absolute perfection. It would be unseemly for me to be less than that and still save face as a master.” He stroked down Loki’s ribs affectionately. “Are you prepared to be well worked over? Given stricter and more demanding tasks set before you?” Loki nodded quickly, feeling more than confident to the demands of him. “Then we begin at once.”

And there was no lie to his words. Stark took Loki outside and to the human stables they went. A sawhorse had been erected, a fine and stable piece with a padded leather to ensure only minimal discomfort. Loki was then bent over it, his wrists and ankles attached to the support legs via use of his engraved leather manacles. And then Stark knelt down and touched his face with a comforting air. “Listen to me closely, Little Prince. You have given great effort to me and in the next few weeks I will expect three times that. So I do believe you have earned the right to call off when it all becomes too much.” He looked Loki in the eyes, ensuring he knew the sincerity of his masters words to him. “You have been allowed to call me naughty but Sir or Stark since we first met. But now I give you leave to call me familiar. If the pain becomes too much, if you are pushed to your limit and breaking point. If you can no longer outlast the torments I have designed for you, merely speak my name. Call me ‘Anthony’, and I will cease. No matter how deep into the desire you may be. No matter how far I have pushed. Speak ‘Anthony’ and I will give you the comfort and closeness you do so desire till you feel ready to continue.” He kissed Loki with deep affection. “Say it for me but once.”

Loki’s mouth felt dry with trepidation, but his aching chest was beyond all fears. “Anthony.”

Stark hummed as though in pleasure. “Say it again. Say my name.”

Loki smiled and shivered in the revelry of his master’s attention. “Anthony.” He tasted each syllable, each letter as though the flavor of it was unsurpassed.

Stark made a laugh from inside him, so filled with happiness that it nearly drank Loki till empty. “That will do, Little Prince.” He took from the tack chest a long box and lay it down where Loki might be able to view the contents. He clicked open the clasp with devious intention, laying open the velvet lining. Loki sucked in breath over his teeth and shook, eyeing each item in turn. The first was that which he was most familiar with, a sturdy crop with a fine leather handle. Next came a set of three floggers, each with varying thickness of leather strappings attached to them. After this was arranged a few paddled, and Loki feared the ones made from one solid piece of wood more than anything. He could hardly think on how the thin cane might tax his bared rump, much less how the belt that followed it might do him injustice!

“Each day, we shall practice with these, starting off with the least and working our way up to the meanest of them. Fifty hundred strokes each, till you grow comfortable with the sensation of it. We shall then work our way up until you can take each implement to the tune of two hundred lashes each in one setting.” Stark did seem quite amused as Loki gave him a look of impossibility, but did not give verbal protest. Since the crop was something in which he was now well versed, Stark chose to instead begin with the wooden brush.

And thus his daily regiment became more and more strictly enforced. When he rose in the morning, he would present himself next to Stark’s bed, awakening him with affectionate laps at his hand. Loki would give his master’s rippled body a wash, which frankly was a chore he would never shirk. Such a delight to have his hands freely explore Stark’s muscles and frame with a wash cloth and water. Stark would milk him vigorously, giving him the physical release of orgasm as well as the comfort of being touched. They would take breakfast, his master often feeding Loki tidbits from his own hand. After this, they would do the young lords posture training, rigorously implementing punishments when he could not hold as he should. Endure was still his weak point and Stark was determined to root this out with force. He did this, not through binging down his arm with greater force, but by moving about Loki and correcting his strained muscles, showing how best to position himself. If he fell, he took his punishments with grace, and Stark was quite proud of him.

Loki had chores to continue with of course, and the servants were warned not to allow him to shirk his tasks despite his increased training. They drove him faster, and Loki became well acquainted with the business end of a paddle before the days work was done. Yet even as he wept, even when it was difficult upon him he strove. At lunch each day he was placed under Stark’s study desk, a ring gag in his mouth to ensure compliance and the very head of his master’s cock in his lips. Neither was he allowed to bob upon it nor lick, merely hold it there unless Stark gave commands. Some days he did, others he did not. Some days Loki was made to sit there, the entirety of his master’s hard phallus into his throat as he sputtered and strove not to gag upon it, rising only to see a long train of saliva between the red cock and his mouth. His jaw sore and aching, often crying just a little from the strain, Stark would pet him, clean his face, and keep him there till work was finished for the day.

Then the whippings were administered. The first few days of this were unbearable, and Loki, though he did not wish to disappoint his lord, was forced to call out ‘Anthony’ more than once. Stark would tend to him, ensuring that no damage had been done, then ask if he wished to continue, to which only once had he shaken his head no with deep apology in his eyes. Stark held him and cosseted him till he could stop sobbing. They had been using the belt, a device upon which he had no concept of how it could be used against him in such versatile ways! It was thick and heavy and when coiled upon his master’s hand to different lengths, could bring an array of blows from light strapping to fierce bludgeoning against his hips and thighs. And even then, when Stark had unfolded it and used but the last few inches at a distance, it cracked into his flesh and Loki knew what pain was.

After the saw horse and the whipping, Loki was bathed afresh and taken for a quick run about the estate. Stark began putting him in the orchard again, not for any sort of dire or hard labor, but merely to give him the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air and beautiful sunshine weather of the season. It did not escape Loki’s notice that a few of the household servants had been placed closely at hand. The incident at market had shaken him, but his master was much more protective minded. They servants were there for his salvation, should any ill come of it, but still those who were allowed access to the fine orchards seemed to treat him as an exotic pet, and he managed to smile at them sweetly when he was petted or praised. Perhaps it might be speculated that such things went to his head a bit, but it was a different sort of pride from the privileged entitlement he had felt before. This was a new sense of purpose. Loki was not being raised high through his mere existence, but rather through his efforts and ability. And it was much more satisfying.

Stark was so deeply satisfied by his drive to perfect himself that he planned a dear reward for him to show his appreciation. Loki was somewhat confused when he was not fitted with his tack and harness as he usually was on Sundays, but was brought to a room in the east wing of the manor in which he had never been. Within he beheld a sight somewhat more comforting, for there was a piano sitting there, well-tuned and beautiful. He touched it cautiously, looking to his teacher for permission. Stark nodded. “Play for me pet.” He spoke softly, deeply, as he sat upon a chair to watch.

It had been years since anyone had last asked it of him but as Loki’s fingers tapped the keys, it came flooding back into his mind. He remembered his mother sitting with him, patiently showing him each key and note, instructing him on how best to make the instrument sing for him. Loki placed himself on the bench and set his hands to their placements, fingers finding each key as though he had never left them. Stark sucked in deeply through his nose, closed his eyes and listened, unspeaking, as Moonlight Sonata flowed from the piano.

When the last notes were struck, Stark did not dare break the silence, and yet his eye did plead for more. Not being one to disobey, Loki smiled and began the intro to Nocturne in #C minor. It flowed beautifully from his piano and he seemed lulled into a trance, wrapped into their own world with one another. Such sweet tones, such perfected rhythm echoed in the chambers, and Stark shivered within his own clothing to hear this melody come from his pet. When it was done, Loki slipped to the floor and gave long, languid strides to kiss Stark’s boots, a question hanging in the air. A hand pressed to his petting him softly as Stark sighed. “That was most beautiful, Little Prince. Why did you not tell me that you could play so lovely?”

“You did not ask, Sir.” Loki said with just a pinch of charming cheek. Such was permissible, as it lent to his sweetness and was most favorable. None the less, Stark gave him a fond strike against the cheek and Loki blushed in lovely tones.

“Shall I have you play during the masque, do you think?” Stark inquired.

“I would be most thrilled to accommodate.” Loki ensured him, and truly it excited him. He had not performed for others for many years. And the weeks flew by almost too quickly. Even with his training, Loki’s chores had not been lightened, and so he was made to bare it as best he could. Always there was Sunday to look forward to. Still then was the charge he had been given over the party, which was to him a most arduous task. The servants seemed to take no great offense over following the directions of the same man they had paddled and disciplined. Indeed they seemed to regard him with a little bit of respect, knowing that he had done their tasks for them and learned the running of their masters household from a new a most educational perspective.

It might be addressed that Loki did overstep his bounds once or twice, when his frustrations with the preparations did vex him. He was of course, always of the mindset that it was his master’s approval he was seeking, and thus it caused him some stress when something did not go as he did wish. So, perhaps, he did slip but a bit when the chef of the household argued with him over the best manner in which to prepare roasted pheasant and the placement of it in the menu (in which the chef did give on his authority that it should be served as a second course between the mouse and quail, and Loki asserting that it would be best before the sorbet due to the greasy nature of the pheasant which would require a pallet cleaner before the meal could continue). And all might have been well should he not have become a bit irate and called the chef an unpleasant name.

Stark found the chefs conceived of punishment most intriguing when he entered the kitchen to find his errant pet. And find him he did, tucked away, kneeling in the corner with his hands clasped behind his head, uncooked rice strewn under his position on the hard tile floors, and his bottom showing clear signs of having been caned repetitiously. Sweet Loki was sobbing quietly, shivering a bit, but knowing that he had deserved this punishment for his foul mood. He commended the chef for his clever castigation and instructed Loki to plead forgiveness.

In due time, a set of surprising notes arrived, baring the sigil of the house of Odinson. One was addressed to the young lord, while the other was meant for Stark. They were written by Thor, and Loki found great relief in his. Thor had gone to their father and pleaded his case, having confessed to visiting the house of Stark without permission, but speaking none of the truth of what he had seen transpire therein. He instead chose to tout his younger brothers improvement in baring and temperament, promising, swearing upon his honor that Loki would return a finer man then he did leave. Odin had agreed to table the matter. Though the lawyers would still need fending off, this was an immense burden relieved from Loki’s shoulders. Thor would be leaving to complete his military training, and upon his return had assured Loki that he would escort his brother from the house of Stark to his rightful place.

Stark did not share his note with Loki, as he was unsure as to what his pet’s reaction might be. But he smiled to read it. It appeared that Thor had taken his advise, and before leaving for Edinburgh, had paid the Lady Sif a visit.

Which had expanded both his education and world view exponentially.

The days seemed to pass by quickly. Stark was sometimes held up for a time, preparing and ensuring that his devised entertainments would be suitable for both the status and pastimes of his guests. Loki was not privileged to know all of them, for Stark wished that he should be a little surprised by some of the more wicked and licentious games. Still, he was consulted on some, and stark often asked his opinion as to his level of comfort with certain implements. Loki was thoroughly pleased to be of assistance, and when prompted, shared his thoughts regarding the saw horse design.

“It is a fine invention, Sir.” He promised. “But if I may be so bold, I am long of limb and well able to balance when bent over the main bar. A shorter, or taller pet might not find themselves so lucky.”

Stark rubbed his beard thoughtfully and considered this. “Perhaps then a line of differing heights?”

“Perhaps, sir. Or alternately, if this might be made to adjust up and down at the masters discretion.” Loki indicated the main bar. “Then, if a Sir or Madam wished to perhaps tax their pet to hold balance, it would be at their will.”

Stark nodded with approval and ruffled Loki’s hair gently. “Well thought, Little Prince.” He kissed his cheek and Loki blushed prettily, consumed by his desire to please and please well.

As the weeks began to pass, many responses arrived and there was barely a day that Jarvis did not bring five or six promises to attend. Out of nervous compulsion, Loki took to counting the responses and was somewhat curious as to how so many could be flowing in. He was not so impolite as to see who might be on the little black book Stark kept on his desk, but the mounting stack of acceptances held his notice to such a degree that Stark commented on it.

“We come to know one another by one means or another.” He explained while crossing off names in his book. “there are gathering parties, holidays, that sort of thing. Somehow, no matter where I am in this world, I seem to find those of a like-minded nature to myself. I give credit to the same hand of fate that lead me to you.” Stark caressed Loki’s cheek. “I think often on that first night when I ran you and you cried out with such honest anguish. I have seen you in this way often. Laid bare before me, a canvas upon which to pain as I desire. And though you were most reluctant to take my strokes in the beginning, I think you have been much improved by them.” And with honest eyes he gave a most affectionate smile. “Do you feel much improved?”

Loki felt as though he might burst from joy. “I do, Sir.” He promised most heartily.

“In what manner?”

Was this a test? A means by which to ascertain which of the lessons he had observed. “I am greatly calmed since my arrival here, Sir. I can only attribute this to no longer being idle as I was at home. I often was left on my own for hours, even days at a time.” Loki gave pause and suddenly felt incapable of looking his teacher in the eyes. “I was given to do with my time, mostly, as I wished. Now my time is devoted. I feel as though my actions are with purpose, purpose driven by you, Sir.” He smiled a little. “I feel a greater control over myself. I do loose my temper at times, but you and all others here correct me. I was surprised to find that I feel a certain gratitude for this. Not at the time.” He admitted and Stark gave a knowing nod. “But later, when it has settled in, when my lessons do take root in my mind, I realize that it feels good to know.” And at this Loki gave pause, a swelling in his chest causing him great emotional distress. He stammered, attempting to finish his statement.

Stark lifted himself from his chair and stood before Loki with deep sincerity in his eyes. “That there are those out there who care enough about you to correct poor behavior, Little Prince?” He was ready for the tears, and for the helpless embrace. “I care for you deeply, Little Prince. You are quite possibly the finest pet I have ever had the privilege of teaching. You strive to give everything. I have told you before, how strong you are, how your pride is not a flaw, but a virtue, if you will but ensure to channel it.” He held Loki close, letting the soft tears fall on his chest. “And you have made great progress in this.” He held Loki’s face and touched their foreheads with terribly intimacy. “I am very proud of you.” Loki smiled, his soul more naked in this very moment then his flesh. “Little Prince, would you like to play?”

Oh the rapture! The incomparable thrill that wrapped inside his body as Stark slid a large ball gag between his lips, obstructing all speech and stretching his jaw wide! The constant bliss as his leather arm manacles were bound in front of him, holding him firm and unbearably helpless before his master’s whims! And then, as though there were nothing to him, Stark lifted Loki with him arms and tossed him over his shoulder, carting him through the house and past the amused servants. What strange folly was this? How possessed he felt in that moment. How damsel like! And there was a grand romantic gesture to it as Stark took the opportunity to strike his bottom with quick, sharp landings of his palm in the most tender places. Up the stairs he was taken and instructed to display himself fittingly on the lower left post of Stark’s bed, his bottom thrust out for Stark’s pleasure and punishment. Loki thrilled at the touch of such firm, unrelenting hands against his bare skin, instructing him to raise up but a little more on his tip toes and spread his thighs wide.

Many implements had been used to strike home castigation upon his body, and Loki had begun to feel that he had a preference for some and a dread of others. The crop which had at first been such a terrible device was now his favored striker, used with such precision and accuracy as to make him jump, yet not leaving such welts as to ruin his pretty flesh. He despised the wooden hairbrush, but then again it did make him yield when he was a stubborn creature. It was merely that it was so unmerciful against his buttocks and thighs that he could not help but cry whenever it was applied to him. He absolutely loathed the cane, and Stark was displeased with the way the marks seemed to linger for weeks after its use, so he avoided it unless sincere and earnest punishment was needed. Belts terrified Loki, visually and mentally imbedded in his mind, and yet the hard, embracing thwack of it against his bottom brought him to line so perfectly that if he heard the clicking of the buckle it made him push his bottom out more.

His favorite, his unbarred favorite, was the intimacy of Stark’s palm brought down with force onto his cheeks. There was an intimacy to it that was undeniable. Whether bent over his tutor’s legs, or held as he was now, one hand steadying in his hair while the other went to work on him. It was the brief moment of contact, followed by the caress against the now red handprint that made Loki sigh and moan. He did not endure it, he enjoyed it. And his cock reflected this most vigorously.

After one hundred strikes from Stark’s hand, the same firm palm coiled about his member and began to milk him with supple intention. Loki yielded gratefully, closing his eyes and letting the desire rise hot and heavy into him. His master’s breath on his soft neck revealed that Stark was just in bad of need as he, just as consumed with thoughts of penetration. But he would hold out, as he always did, letting it rise to its peak and ensuring Loki had learned from their lessons.

When rich white cum burst from the tip, Stark did not hesitate but took from his chest a heavy flogger and began applying it to the still sore bottom. Loki gasped and strained, but held his position. Oh how devilish, for it to wrap it’s tendrils about his thighs like that, leaving stinging welts and red lashes over his pretty skin! He lifted onto the balls of his feet with every stroke, not to avoid but out of the helpless way the contact drove him forward. Another one hundred stroked and he bent forward a little, fully expecting the warmth of his master’s cock within him.

But it did not come. Instead, with ruthless efficiency, Stark pressed two lubricated fingers into him, dragging them against the ball of pressure that forced sweet sensations on his charge! Loki whined and mewled, sobbing most pitifully in the midst of this keen manipulation of his senses. Once he was opened but enough, Stark gave an impish chuckle and crooked his digits within, making Loki bounce back against them and then changing tactics by pounding them in at a furious pace! Loki pleaded with his eyes and sounds, but was paid no heed. When he came this time, his body was awash with it.

And yet Stark did not give halt to this lesson. Loki gave a pitiful call as he saw the hairbrush removed from the drawer and shook his head, knowing it to be unavoidable. Stark used it occasionally for what he termed as a ‘finishing device’. Since it was of one firm piece of wood with horse hair bristles on the other side, it would leave such a deep burning and unbearable sharpness that Loki would be reduced to tears. And even if he was not, the defiant pain of the bristles on his well tenderized bottom would ensure that he was a great racking mess.

And yet still, as Stark finished and pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck, finally splitting his welted and redden cheeks and pressing his slickened cock deep inside, Loki knew rapture. He was thrust and bullied into, and he adored it. His tunnel was made to bare the brunt of repressed heat and Loki made such sounds as to invite whatever his master needed to use him for. Stark touched his body and caressed it, bringing them both to orgasm in due course, only after their passions left nowhere else to go but this avenue.

Sweating and wanting to lie down, Loki was not permitted to drop to his knees and be weak.

“Your stamina is most impressive.” Stark commended breathlessly. “But your endurance, I believe still requires some work, Little Prince.” He kissed Loki’s lips and brought him to the washing tub, deciding to cleans his seed from the wet hole himself. “I believe you shall now have need to be milked three times a day, once before each meal. But do not think this overindulgence pet!” he warned strictly. “For from now on, you will not be permitted to cum without pleading for it at the end of the day.”

A lick on his hand and Loki was permitted speech. “Will you apply the restrain for my manhood again? To prevent me this, Sir?”

Stark shook his head. “No. You have proven very capable at controlling yourself, and I would be greatly disappointed if I had to resort to that method again. You will tell your assistant, which is in all likelihood to be either myself or Jarvis, when you are near to completion, at which point we shall give you a few quick strikes to the pelvis until you are able to regain control over your member. If you fail, that is to say, lose yourself, your tights will be opened and twenty-five strikes will be administered about your inner thighs and pelvis. Not to mention you will not be allowed release at the end of the day. If you do you apply yourself and show fast improvement, you can look forward to spending many nights in the restraint box.”

Loki took a deep breath and nodded. “I shall strive to please your expectations of me, Sir.”

And so it went. Of course at first there were some failures, and he would bare those marks for a while to come. But he was genuinely pleased with himself when, by the fourth day, he managed to resist the impulse to release on his own and was rewarded with a deliciously long session of his master not only milking him before bed, but also taking a tongue to his tight backside to show his joy at his charge’s progress.

Letters began arriving, mostly from those who had been invited to the midsummer fete, replying as to their ability to attend or not. Some asked questions, to which Stark had Loki take dictation.

“Madam Edina wishes to ask if she may be permitted to bring both of her pets to the fete, Sir.” Loki summarized as he read through the letter quickly, readying a quill pen for his master’s reply.

Stark debated. “Tell her that, much to my lamentation, only one pet per Sir or Madam. We would not wish to be overcrowded, nor to seen overindulgent now would we?” And he winked roguishly, making Loki chuckle in a light hearted mood.

He opened the next letter. “Sir, the Marquis wishes to inform you that you seem to have forgotten to invite him to the fete, and that he is quite willing to forgive, provided his invite was lost in transit.” Loki looked up in confusion at the responding growl.

“The Marquis!” Stark snorted and waved his hand. “The fool. I would not invite him even were he not locked up in Charenton! Tell him to piss off…in the most eloquent and polite terms of course.”

Loki was pleased to see the names of the Baron and Baroness Barton included among those who had agreed to attend, as well as that of Dr. Banner. His meetings with them had been altogether brief, but he found himself thrilling at the idea of their company again.

Then one day, Jarvis brought in a rather ostentatious envelope. The lettering was very fine calligraphy and printed on paper trimmed with gold leaf. Stark would not let him answer it, but swallowed visibly as he opened it. His eyes raced down the letter and he covered his mouth with one hand as though trying to suppress an involuntary noise. “He is coming.” Stark said cryptically. “We have much work to do.”

Loki looked to Jarvis for some manner of explanation, but it would have to remain unspoken. And the lack of knowledge burned him with intense jealousy.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *giggles* I know some of you have been waiting for this. The appearance of Steve Rogers!

His leather collar and manacles were polished till they shone. His skin was expertly stripped of hair and oiled to show the extent of its luster and softness. Stark insisted that his hair be done professionally, then decided he did not approve and had Jarvis do it again so that the limp black waves would hang ever so enticingly about his face. He seemed to be in a great debate over whether or not belled clamps upon his charge’s nipples would be just the right touch, or if it would be a touch gauche.

Loki had noted his master’s nerve had become increased ever since the arrival of the strange letter. Even now, with only a few hours left before the guests began to arrive, one could taste Stark’s tension in the air and it wounded Loki to see his strong master this way. He touched his teacher’s hand and licked it. “Sir, please.” He entreated. “If-if you do now stand before me and see some flaw or skill I lack, merely tell me. I will do my utmost tonight not to shame you before your guests. I do so deeply wish to make you proud of me.”

And at this Stark seemed to realize just how much his tension had made his Little Prince even more nervous. He took Loki in his arms and kissed him with great tenderness. “I speak true to you when I say that I have never been more proud of any of my pets than I am now of you, Little Prince. Do not be afraid, do not ever be afraid again. You have proven yourself twice over and twice over since then. So when you see my nervousness, please do not believe that it is a reflection of my faith in you. I have my own reasons for trepidation tonight.” But he did not elaborate, and Loki could not ask.

This was as much his fete as Stark’s, for it had been Loki who ensured that there was an elegance to the extravagance. He had decided upon everything Stark had permitted him to, and he was proud of himself as he walked politely behind his master down the stairs, seeing the delicate paper lanterns float above the gathered guests and cast shadows about the floor. The theme of masquerade had been taken to heart, and half of those who had come were now donning the clothing of mythical beings, gods and goddesses, fairy creatures and elfish folk in all folk tales and old stories.

The half that had not dressed, had not necessarily done so by choice. Like Loki, they each wore some manner of collar and manacle, defining their place at this celebration of Midsummer. And though they stood next to their respective Sirs or Madams, all these naked folk kept pleasantly silent. Loki could see a variety of them reflecting his own emotions. Some seemed nervous and a bit skittish, others proud and smiling. A few poor souls looked mortified and could not seem to wipe that from their face. Loki smiled just a bit, knowing well how they felt.

The household servants passed about, now in their formal uniforms, serving fresh chilled cider that Loki knew for a fact had been from the barrels he himself had made. The fact that people were complimenting it nearly made him swell.

Stark took a glass as they stood on the divan between the twin staircases and raised it high, the guests following suite. “My friends, Sirs and Madams, Lords and Ladies, and pets.” A slight chuckle rippled through the gathered, Loki estimated at least one hundred and twenty. “Many of us have come to know one another throughout the years, either by name and face, or by reputation. I have ensured that all those accompanied tonight view out activities with a light and jovial heart, as well as the knowledge that no true harm will ever come to any of our beloved pets.” And Loki noted many of the gathered laid a soft hand on their naked pet, perhaps ruffling their hair or stroking them sweetly to calm their nerves. “While I encourage everyone here to be inventive and creative with the entertainments provided, there are as always rules to this game that I expect to be observed at all times. Breaking a rule will mean being asked to leave the party early, and I am sure none of you wish to miss out of the fun.” Another brief laugh as Stark smiled. “Rule One: I have devised an array of exciting distractions for both masters and pets for after dinner, but please do not feel you will be impolite if you do not try them all. There is a white pavilion at the back of the garden for both submissive and dominant to find respite and relaxation if you become over tired. Rule Two: While I know some of our more private games might delve into darker territory, I ask that we keep shy of any event which might cause our pets to call off or which we know might bring them undue harm. If true chastisement is needed, please make use of one of the devices so that everyone might enjoy the spectacle. Rule Three: I want to ensure everyone that we are well guarded from any voyeurs, besides one another. I have done all I can in my short time here to insert myself among the people and gain their good will, but I have also erected canvas sheeting about the garden and posted my own person servants to keep watch so we are not interrupted. Please have no fears while here. And in conclusion; masters, show your pets well. Pets, be a credit to your master’s, and welcome, to the Midsummer Fete!”

Everyone started to drain their glass, and Stark set a direct precedent by tilting his flute just enough for Loki to lap at the bubbling liquid prettily. Many quickly followed his direction and Loki marveled at just how easily his master had taken charge of the room. They were instructed to begin the evening with dinner and Loki was able to watch for those he knew as they entered the dining hall, filing out to where their place cards were set. He was happy to see that his choices were noted, for beside each chair was a small pillow upon which a pet might kneel with greater comfort, as well as a hook to put their leash on. They waited for their host to come to the head of the table. Stark nodded to Loki, who showed protocol by kneeling submissively in Relief, head down but smiling. The other slaves followed suite and the master’s nodded their approval.

“You are my sweet and beloved Little Prince.” Stark had reminded him this morning. “And so I look to you to set the example for the others. You must be their guide, for while most of the pets have been old hats at this for some time, but others are still fledglings. You will help them adjust by showing them what is possible, much as Clint showed you.”

And so Loki strove to be the model of a well-trained pet.

Little golden dishes were set on the floor, and as the courses were served, the pets were also given their fill, Loki again assuring what was desired by bending his head gracefully and slipping a bit of food into his lips or lapping at the bowl. The pets were not given quite so much food as their masters, not from lacking, but rather due to the knowledge that the pets would be heavily exercised by nights end, and it would not due to have them getting ill. So they were, by the fourth course (which was pheasant and the fifth which was listed upon the menu as sorbet), quite full and only took a spoonful or two to cleanse their pallet. Loki felt Stark reach down to stroke his hair often as the conversation progressed about the room. There was a languidness to the moment, an allowance to get formalities out of the way before the real fun began. The evening was early, the sun just setting, and no one was in any rush.

As dinner ended and the assemblage began to mill out to the garden, Loki felt a subtle pinch on his bottom and was thrilled to see Clint’s winking eye as Natasha caught up with Stark to give her opinions. “I am glad to see you well improved since our last meeting.” He whispered in a soft, but encouraging voice.

I am thrilled to see you and your lady here!” Loki responded. “I did miss having someone with which I could learn so much from.”

“And your disposition is somewhat better as well.” Clint chuckled and stole a quick kiss to his cheek before the pets were lead off into a pen by the servants. The masters seemed unconcerned by this, continuing down to the garden to take their seats at the tables bellow. Many of the confused pets turned to Loki, him being their hosts pet, and began pressing to him questions as to this most unorthodox development.

“Forgive me, please.” Loki said with true honesty. “But my master did not include me in the preparations for entertainment. I know no more then you!” He insisted, somewhat nervous himself. But the answer was soon made clear as several of the house servants moved amongst the pets, binding their arms neatly behind their backs and making sure that the collars were not too tight. On one end of the pen was a bar which each pet was made to lean over while a specially designed horsetail plug was lubricated and inserted into their bottoms. Loki shook his head with amusement to realize that each plug tail matched the hair of the pet it was given to. He bit his lower lip as the smoothness entered him and was grateful to know it was Jarvis’s skilled fingers that had inserted it. They were all then lined up at a small gate and turned to hear the sounds of hoof beats clamoring towards them. Excitement rippled through! They were going to be run!

And Loki was of course first in line, best so that he might set an example. A set of six servants atop horses came at a healthy trot up the pathway, crops at the ready. Loki was given a smart tap by a servant and sent off running astride the horse, the blows of the crop smartly stinging his buttocks and thighs! They did not have far to go, but it became obvious that this was a sort of presentation for all gathered, something to run out some of the nerves of the pets and get them into the spirit of the games. As they rounded the corner there was a gay cheer from the crowd and an announcer called out clear; “Little Prince, possessed of Anthony Stark!” Loki was then struck firmly and given the instruction to stop and bow gracefully before his master’s guests. He did so, kicking back one leg and gracefully lowering his head and he knelt, effecting a small smile and a flush of pride to see Stark looking at him with such devotion in his eyes! It took all in him to keep poise as he was tapped gain and brought off at a brisk canter, many eyes watching him.

As soon as they rounded the next hedge, he was gently unplugged and given a quick wash down with warm water and a scented cloth. By the time they finished with him the next pet was coming around and quickly given the same treatment, ensuring that any sweat was cleaned from their bodies. A new plug was inserted, one far smaller with a little jewel in the base of it. But though he was pleased to see it, Loki did not note any other pet getting such a decadent ornamentation. The servant’s smile gave confirmation to him. This was Stark’s way of showing him off.

He was lead to his master’s table and sat gracefully next to him, taking a chance to nuzzle against Stark’s leg gratefully. A warm hand caressed him. “You did beautifully, Little Prince.” He said softly as the slaves were still being paraded and announced. Loki lapped at his teacher’s hand, not to be allowed speech, but for the pure pleasure of tasting the salt on his skin. Stark chuckled a little at the tickle and shushed him to be polite.

As the last of the pets finished their run, the lights beyond the tables were lit and the guests made appropriate noises of astonishment to see the variety of distraction brought to them. Even Loki, who had indeed felt sure that his master’s genius would be out in force, was surprised to see the revelry. His mind reeled at all laid out for public amusement, but what truly made him shiver were the several small tents set up, each one seemingly cloaking a promised debauchery within. With all manner of decorum and ease, Stark stood and bid his guests to enjoy at their leisure. He then beckoned to Loki and the two of them strode down the steps to enter this seeming dreamland.

The first person they came across was the good Baroness and her sweet pet. “Well Stark, what do you suggest? One can hardly keep their mind in one place with so much to occupy it?”

Stark gave a chuckle. “Well, I had thought to entertain a small diversion or two myself to help pass the time.”

“Ah…so he is coming isn’t he?” She sipped at her red wine and gave a knowing smile.

Stark coughed nervously under his breath. “He did make mention of it. Though it is best not to try and pin point it. He does of course have many duties and one cannot press upon old friendships merely for the sake of a small party.” Stark nodded to Loki. “Still, while we are at it, would you care to join us? I had thought to demonstrate my Little Prince’s ability to take a sound whipping.”

Loki strove not to bit his lip in nervousness, though Clint’s good natured wink helped and both pets were lead to the whipping post. Stark had indeed taken Loki’s advice and made the saw horses adjustable, but he had added an extra surprise to this little punishment. In front of each of the three saw horses had been placed a large, silver embossed standing mirror! Oh it was cunning! The pet, if properly bound, would be forced to view their own expression while being whipped, as well as provide the entire crowd with a delightful view of their humiliation.

And Stark was clear he wished Loki to endure this first. So to the saw horse he was strapped, and to Natasha the crop was handed! In the reflection he could see Clint’s eyes widen and the dear friend nudged his mistress neatly as though a stallion pleading for a treat. “Oh do not give me such a sorrowful look! I shall only beat him a little.” She promised and stroked Loki’s prime bottom with her leather gloved fingers. “Such a pity though. Oh Stark if I could have him at my mercy for but a day I would return him to you such a happily defiled creature. She smiled at Clint. “I would gladly let you have a fair turn with him as well my Hawkeye.” And with that the first blow fell.

Stark was no dainty with the crop, but Natasha’s whip like strike brought across his buttocks with such precision that Loki went up onto the balls of his feet instantly. The sing of the leather danced in the air as the cracking contacted echoed through. The were quickly gathering a crowd of onlookers and Loki trust out his buttocks despite the pain, determined to present himself. Natasha gave a quick compliment and Stark nodded his thanks. The blows continued to rain down on the youth, his own wincing and gripping agony shown to him in the mirror. Loki turned a shade of red and gave a soft sob, little gasps escaping throughout the torrent.

When at last Natasha had decided her good work finished, there was a bit of applause when she gently helped Loki to stand and gifted him with a fond pat and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Well done. Well done indeed.” She congratulated the pet and took her husband by the arm. “Bend over my Hawkeye, and do thank Little Prince for warming me up.” Clint nodded a somewhat sardonic thank-you, knowing full well that there was nothing for it and submitting with gracious joy to his lady and wife.

He could hear the echo of the crop as they walked away leaving the two to their delights. Stark placed a calming hand on his buttocks, soothing what would surely be bruises come morning and kissing his neck delightedly. “Very well done.” He promised and Loki thrilled. “But that was merely a warm up. I have a sweet treat for you my pet, one which your trials of endurance should have you well prepared for.” Stark gave a roguish wink and pulled him over, gesturing to one of the scarlet tents. “I designed this for you my pet.” He whispered as the approached the flap, a smiling servant holding it open. “I know your need for love, for affection. I know that for you, it is a more sincere motivation then pain or pleasure could ever be.” Stark took a black sash from his pocket and folded it over, pressing it to Loki’s eyes. “And to show my deepest appreciation for how far you have come, I wish to give you as much love as you may possibly take in one moment.”

There was the sound of fabric and suddenly all light disappeared. There was only Stark’s hands to guide him deeper into the tent. He could hear the shuffling of dresses and the muted conversation of people all about him. Loki’s hands were then guided above him to clasp upon a large ring. Stark planted soft little kisses upon him as rope ensured he could not stray. He could hear Stark sigh longingly and touch his skin with a deep embrace. “Enjoy this, Little Prince, you have earned it.”

And then he was alone without being alone. There was no movement as he was left to struggle in a most comely fashion amidst all these people. He could hear small laughter, not mocking but amused none the less. The fluttering of fans and whispered words, one of them his master. It was a great comfort to know that Stark was still in here with him. But then the familiar creak of leather told him that, while his teacher would be present, he was not taking an active part in it. Then came that voice, in control of every aspect. “Begin.”

The first touched him with great trepidation, unsure if it was allowed. The second was more embracing, unafraid to feel the supple pale flesh for itself. The third was grasping him, fingers stronger than even his teacher’s on him. And Loki gasped out loud. “Sir…?” he whispered into the air and heard the throaty chuckle in response.

“Hush, Little Prince.” Stark commanded, and Loki obeyed.

More hands. More fingers, caressing and moving over his body without reservation. Movement in the darkness as he was fondled like a prize bauble, inspected and adored. They talked around him, male and female both, marveling at the tender way his skin yielded to their grip. Complimenting him softly on his pale and pretty he was. A set of strong fingers clasp his tender nipple and Loki whined to feel it tugged and pulled upon, rolled and teased in the stranger’s grip. They chuckled at his obvious pleasure, and Loki realized why Stark had taught him better endurance.

He knew instinctively that he would not be allowed to cum without permission.

The hands increased in number and began to probe on more intimate places. His back and shoulders were begin rubbed speculatively. His thighs were lifted and pinched till he twisted and turning in the grips of those whom he might have pleaded mercy from. They clasped onto his cheeks and give them many quick, sweet strikes against his cock and scrotum. Loki pitched and shook, but did not offer resistance. It felt delicious beyond compare, and as he leaned back, someone’s muscular frame supported him, nuzzling into his neck.

The others seemed to take this as permission to go but a step further. Mouth’s now joined in with the many hands. A quick flick of the tongue, a brief kiss pressed chastely to secret spots. Oh how he wished to say something! To plead so pitifully, though in all fact he knew not if his first word might be “Halt!” or yet still “Yes!” Someone was suckling on his neck and inner thigh with maddening accuracy as to his weaknesses, and Loki panted out his pleasure. The mouths traversed the landscape of his body like explorers, and he was laid bare like the plains of the west to their eyes.

Someone split open the cleft of his cheeks and removed the plug deftly. A wet lapping overtook him against his anus and Loki could not hold back his scream of delight! He was shushed by another set of lips hitherto unknown to him pressing down, taking him over with deep and forgiving passion. The tongue at his backside invaded his body, and he very nearly lost his self-control. It was only the knowledge that Stark was watching that kept him in check. Another mouth took hold if his scrotum and yet another still began suckling at his erected cock, and Loki sobbed with the pleasure of it.

He could feel the hardness of cocks, both unclothed and beneath trousers rubbing on his skin And yet no one attempted to penetrate him. As precum began to drip from his cock and Loki began to cry out wordlessly, he wondered why. Had Stark forbidden it? Was this shared pleasure meant to never come to relief? Loki would not doubt it. Why else would he have spent weeks being milked over and over, only allowed to release himself when Stark would take him in hand just before bed?

The mouths and hands that coveted his pleasure began to press deeper, and two fingers plunged into his opening. His hidden treasure inside was keenly manipulated, causing him to become near wild with the intense heat of it. He felt he would burn alive for this mad fantasy to never end.

But all too quickly he heard Stark give the order. All hands left him with but a final stroke. The mouths that touched him gave a single kiss on his breathless lips, and then he knew himself to be alone with his mentor. Stark undid his bondage and let Loki fall into his arms helplessly, undoing the blindfold as he cradled his sweet pet. “Are you well?” he asked gently. Loki gave a weak nod, the erection between his thighs painful to bare. “Shall I allow you orgasm, or hold it back?” he teased without mercy.

Loki began to answer him, and noted the strength of his master’s need pressed to his side as they touched. “Sir, make me wait.” He pleaded softly, fingers reaching against the hardness beneath his fabrics. “But please do not let yourself suffer unduly.” He gripped the ties of the trousers with his teeth and tugged at them with kittenish air, waiting for Stark’s word to continue. Loki waited, his lips touching the pants underneath with patient air, green eyes cast upwards with an almost innocent touch.

Finally a hand caressed his head and pushed him forward, Loki gently removing the last covering before taking the firm rod into his lips. Stark’s deep, masculine groans drove him forward despite his own need, the grateful tone above him nearly driving him to madness. But he held as he knew would be appreciated, slickening the thickness down his throat in slow strides up and down. His mentor gave him guidance, thrusting his own hips up into the mouth and letting his head toss back to take full advantage. He must have been resisting his own release for quite some time, for when Stark came Loki nearly had to choke for it hitting the back of his throat. But he swallowed as instead and kissed the head of the satisfied cock with great affection. Stark took him up and laid many warm and happy kissed on his face, hands clutching him possessively. The bejeweled plug was slicked up again and Loki bowed to have it thrust back between his cheeks, filling him up with wicked intentions. “Clever Little Prince.” Stark murmured and they stood, Stark now clutching his waist as they walked out together. There was a brief moment Loki required to adjust to the light again, but all was well.

As they began to walk to the next diversion, there was a loud call that brought everyone’s attention around to the sight of a young pet, a pretty woman with round hips, running across the gardens, clearly distraught. Her Madam found her quickly, clutching her tightly to her chest and giving the frightened thing soothing pets and stroking her hair. Stark straightened, his eyes narrowed as two of his servants brought forth a young man from the bushes, his cloth too poor to be an invited guest. There had obviously been a struggle as his knees were stained with grass and leaves were stuck about his hair.

Loki was almost frightened for him as he felt Stark grip his crop tightly. He instructed the young man brought before him and Loki covered his mouth to silence a startled noise. It was one of the youths who had accosted him in the market place, come to verify the rumors for himself! Stark made quick verification that he was alone, ensuring the safety of his party-goers, before turning to the rebellious imp. “So you wished to view the strangeness of house Stark?” he said in a quiet tone. Was this mere youthful curiosity or malicious intention?

The young man struggled and glared most nastily at him. “I saw with my own eyes what you do to your servants, the poof you keep on a short leash and send to buy your food.” He shrugged. “It was only meant to be a bit of fun really. Never would have dared hurt him, or the lass.” The youth nodded to indicate the young woman. She was in fact unharmed, but perhaps a bit started and shaken. “Just having a little bit of fun. I’m sure they are used to such fondling’s.”

“From their chosen masters and mistresses yes, but not from an uninvited party.” Stark said with tight control. “Your actions were most unscrupulous.” He chastised and then gave a slow, almost devious smile. “But then, I have never been accused of rudeness to a guest in my house. You did travel far from the village to see what might occur on Midsummer Night at my home, so why not allow yourself to be fully drawn into our little fantasy?” He looked up and spotted the man he was looking for. “Dr. Banner! You were unable to bring a pet this evening, yes?”

Loki saw the cleverness of it instantly as the good doctor stepped forward from the crowd. “Indeed, though I would offer a small correction as you are aware I have kept no pet.”

Stark nodded. “How old are you, trespasser?” He directed the crop under the young man’s chin and forced his eyes up. He was, all in all, a good looking young man, if a bit dirty and of mean cut.

The youth sneered at the watching people, unaware that he was slowly being turned into but another amusement. “Twenty and one.” He spat out.

“So you to be so disrespectful!” Stark _tsked_ and everyone had a small chuckle. “Very well, have him cleaned up and prepared for Dr. Banner’s good graces.” He handled the fellows chin and gave him a soft slap at the cheek. “You did wish to see what dark plays we engaged in tonight. Well now you shall have a most up close and intimate view of each and every one.” He promised as the now frightened youth was drug off to be cleaned. Loki did not envy him. As part of the preparation for the evening, he had been scrubbed till his skin was so pink it burned and then given a through and most uncomfortable enema for the last three evenings running. The young man was sure to suffer such an event. But still, if Dr. Banner would be taking charge of him for the evening, he would not suffer too unduly.

Stark ensured that the frightened pet and her mistress were well in hand and instructed them to take respite in the white tent for a while to sooth their nerves. The crowd was greatly entertained by this development, and many voices eagerly awaited the return of the youth, wishing to see what might be done with him.

“A most firm and elegant judgment.” A voice clear as daylight rang out. “Well done, Anthony.”

Loki turned along with his master to see quite possibly the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes upon! One could cast Stark as roguishly handsome, and Loki did not lie that he himself was pretty and fair to behold. But this man, this august personage made him quiver responsively almost by instinct alone. His face was chiseled and full of gentle graces, his eyes a shade of steel blue to rival his brother’s. Loki saw his own master stiffen and a strange look come over his face. The same look that often possessed his own when in the thrall of submission.

“Am I to take this as approval, my Prince?” Though he did try to keep his voice level, Stark could not hold back the nerves of it.

“As always, Anthony.” His voice gave the air of affluence without arrogance, smooth and well projected. Many people had already bowed to him gracefully, but he waved it off as though it was not needed. But Loki noted, as he was sure his master could not help but do, that when Stark bowed, this Prince, this majestic figure, kept him there but a moment longer than the others. His eyes then turned to Loki, who bowed swiftly and yet with poise. “He is most fair.” The Prince remarked kindly and Stark gave permission to touch. A hand full of fluid gestures wrapped around Loki’s ear and drew him up. “Hello, Little Prince, you master has written to me many letters on your account. I am pleased to find you just as tractable and lovely as he spoke.”

Loki found a hot blush spreading across his face and gently lapped at the Prince’s hand. “I am glad to please you so, Sir.” He remarked hesitantly.

“My Prince.” He was corrected gently. “The burden of rank is never truly removed from me, and so I must bare it with eloquence.” He rounded Loki, taking in all of him. “Well Anthony? Shall you not make proper introductions?”

Stark almost seemed to jump and Loki found himself greatly confused. “My Prince, this is Loki Odinson, under my charge known as Little Prince. Little Prince, Crown Prince Steven Rogers.”

“Charmed, entirely charmed.” Rogers said and there was no lie in his voice.

“Forgive such intrusive questioning, my Prince, but did you bring pet with you? Not that it is required…” Stark began and Loki could hear the tension in his controlled tone. “But I am sure after such a journey they might need respite.”

Prince Rogers smiled with knowing kindness. “Why should I need to bring a pet, when the only one who ever captured me has already been waiting?” he teased mercilessly and Stark near went limpid from top to bottom. But he righted himself and put a firm arm to Loki, pulling him into this shared world of nostalgia. Jealousy surged through Loki’s veins and he tried to quietly repress. “I am duly impressed with this fete, Anthony. There has not been one like it in years.”

“We cannot always afford to get together with any regularity. Life intercedes, and many times our little group can not afford the distractions such games and fancies bring about.” Stark nodded as the talk moved to a conversational level. “But still, it is nice to see old friends and make a few new associates.”

“And I see you have trained your new pet to superb levels. Already he is writhing and yet makes no complaint. Your Little Prince shows himself to great effect, Anthony. And yet without egotism or shame.”

Stark preened and smiled, much at ease to hear such approval. “It was hard won, I assure you. But I did never once lose confidence that my Little Prince was up to the task. He is my pride. I have never trained another like him. Nor do I think any other might be capable of such height.” He assured his prince as they sat for a brief drink and hors d'oeuvre were brought around.

“How now?” Rogers smiled at Loki and invited him to knee upon a soft pillow. “And do you, Little Prince, feel well trained?”

Loki nodded. “I do, my Prince. I have found a freedom in this servitude that has made me humble, and yet has not made me forsake a pride in myself.”

“Well spoke!” And he leaned forward, kissing the top of Loki’s head affectionately. “And well done.” Roger’s eyes now went to Stark and he extended his palm. With only a small amount of hesitate, Stark leaned forward and kissed the strong fingers as he had not done in years. “I would hear this tale.” The prince said and Loki wondered if he could see the bright flush on Stark’s cheeks and the way he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Recount to me your time with Anthony, Little Prince. From the very first meeting onward.” And Loki noticed Stark become very attentive.

As ordered, he began to tell his tale, from the time when he had attempted a brutish and unwarranted accusation of the washing woman on. Loki found himself quite embarrassed to admit some of his foolish and quite frankly brattish behavior, as though it had been a different person taking such action. He watched Rogers nod and perhaps make a quiet comment or two of approval to Stark. Rogers seemed greatly thrilled to know that Stark would take him to the fields every Sunday and leave his work aside. “For you have always been prone to such excessive duty, Anthony. It is good to know that not only do you recognize your pet’s need for recess, but your own as well.”

Rogers seemed intrigued by the development of his family ties and frowned at it. “Such a pity that father’s do often wield such power in their children’s lives. Such destruction that can be handed down to ruin a young man who in truth only required a little love to be brought to his right.” The Prince shook his head and petted Loki sweetly, showing sympathy for his plight, but he looked at Stark with nostalgia. “A little love, even from the most unexpected place, can have staggering effects, can it not Anthony?” And Stark nodded shyly, not wishing to interrupt Loki’s tale.

The prince nodded at Stark’s handling of the tiff with Thor, and grinned broadly when Stark admitted to sending the elder brother to Sif. “Oh I do know the lady well. She is not one to suffer fools! If he did indeed take your suggestion I believe Thor will return to his home most well educated! Whether he wished for it or not.” And he chuckled. “All and all, you seem quite thoroughly trained. A compliant and sweet creature, but not without your own dignity and pride.” He nodded to Stark and congratulated him. “It is good to know you did not forget the tricks I taught you.”

Stark trembled as a finger touched his fingers lightly and Loki wished to go to him. “I could hardly forget. My own lessons were driven into me most harshly.”

“And have you retained all you were taught?” Rogers spoke softly and Stark nodded quickly, assuring him that this was so. “Good. Then you will not mind showing this to me after the fete.” His smile was pleasant, but there was an edge to it not unlike a blade. “After all, when one has been absent from school for so long, a remedial course may be necessary so that one does not forget hard won lessons.”

Now there was a sincere writhing that made Loki feel somewhat lost. “Of course my Prince. I would always bow to your request.” His voice had heightened, becoming somewhat more airy as Stark tried to contain himself.

“And you shall not be abandoned in this, Little Prince.” Roger then spoke directly to Loki. “I would not dream in a thousand years of parting the two of you for any measure.” He stood, straightening his suit and nodding. “I will meet you in your suite, dear Anthony. Please be sure that you and your dear pet as sufficiently ready for an audience.”

“Looking forward to it, my Prince.” Stark said, trying to affect the same manner of nonchalance. But he chewed his lower lip as his old friend went to amuse himself with the activities. “Oh dear.” He whispered under his breath. “Oh dear me.”

Loki nuzzled into his leg. “Sir?” he whispered out of deep concern.

“Forgive me my sweet Little Prince.” Stark said with a weak smile as he wiped his brow. “But it would appear your final test, and mine, is going to come somewhat sooner then expected.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked for it you got it! StevexTonyxLoki threesom bdsm switch porn! 
> 
> *wants to die for a while but can't cause next chapter has SO MANY FEELS*

The fete was still going quite strong, but Stark took Loki aside for a private moment and to prepare themselves for the Prince. Loki wished to tell his master not to be frightened. To be bold and daring as he always was. But he could not find a way to tell him this. It was so strange to see his master in this state, one of such unsure and tense mood. He nuzzled up close to him, trying to give silent comfort and Stark smiled at him easily. “Be at ease, Little Prince. All will be well.” He assured him, but Loki had come to know his master so well that he could hear the note of concern.

They washed and made ready, Stark taking great care with Loki’s frame. But it was to his pets great surprise that Stark then gently told Loki to give him the same treatment, bathing him and massaging the lotions and oils into his skin to help make it as supple and fresh as possible. He then looked into his chest of drawers and gave pause at a box much like the one he had once present to Loki that had contained his collar and manacles. “He will want to do this himself.” Stark said absently and placed it next to the leather chair he usually took his place in. From the ceiling he took a large silver hoop and bade Loki grip hold of it tightly, binding him as he had so many times before. “This shows you to your best advantage. Your entire body on display, for all to view each supple and graceful arch.” Stark complimented as he dressed himself quickly.

“It always displayed you best as well, Anthony.” Rogers strode into the room, having been watching from the shadows for several minutes. “Oh Anthony, why do you bother redressing?” he whispered and tilted the shorter man to look up at him.

Stark stammered a bit. “Because I know the pleasure it gives you to undress me, my Prince.”

“A little bit petulant?” Rogers gave a cheerful laugh. “Perhaps you are due for a lesson.” He walked over and landed a hand against Loki’s ribs, rounding him and inspecting every inch of flesh. “Absolutely superb.” He complimented. “So different from you, Anthony. But then, perhaps a closer comparison is needed.” He did then, quick as a whip, grab hold of Stark’s hair and pull him forward. “Take hold of the ring, my sweet Iron Man.”

Loki started to look into his master’s eyes and see him bound so that they face one another, fingers just toughing as their hands were so close. “Sir?” he whispered softly and Stark tried to give him a calming smile.

“Forgive me, Little Prince. It’s been too many count of years since I was last in this position.” But Rogers interrupted.

“Long enough that you have forgotten your manners, sweet Iron Man.” Rogers chastised and Stark clamped his lip shut. “You are no longer the master in this room.” His voice never raised from its harmonic perfection, and yet it flowed with graceful power, showing clear dominance over everything. And yet never was there a hint of prideful nature or haughty tones. It was as if this was effortless for him.

“Yes, my Prince.” Stark whimpered out, clearly trying to hold his composure.

It was about to be struck clearly from him.

“Little Prince?” Rogers then addressed Loki. “I have been watching you and I am impressed with your quality as a pet and a gentleman. Please, do me a dear favor and give your master hope as I remind him of what it means to be in such a position.” And with this he stripped Stark of all clothing, leaving him just as naked and helpless as Loki.

“I do believe I would remember as you once told me, my Prince. That no man is so high that he cannot be brought low.” Stark quickly said, hoping to pacify the man who even now took a cane from the chest as though he knew exactly where to look.

“It is good to hear you remember my words with such clarity. But still…” He took a fierce hand to Stark, slapping him smartly. “You did speak them without my permission.” And Loki watched with increasing interest as the cane fell to his master’s backside, making Stark rise and fall with each painful contact. Loki could not believe the precision with which Roger’s wielded it , hitting the exact same mark each time till Stark finally began to pant and sweat out his pain. From his position Loki could see the welt growing redder and more pronounced. Stark’s eyes were downcast and worrisome, and Loki leaned forward to catch his master’s head against his neck and give him comfort.

“It will be well, Sir.” He promised sweetly. “Have you not done this to me dozens of times? If a slight one such as myself might bare it, then surely you can!” Stark gave a short laugh and seemed greatly heartened by this.

“Well spoken, Little Prince.” Rogers commended as he left the last strip on Stark’s backside and caressed it till he heard the sharp intake of breath. “But I think perhaps you two should be made to contemplate silence together for a short while.” And he took out a set of O ring gag’s placing them into Stark and Loki’s jaws and tightening them so that dislodging them would be an impossibility. “Now then, you two make a pretty set. But wait, you need to more match.” And on came the collar to Stark’s neck, snapping into place and looking most lovely. Then Rogers made a cunning move and between the ring of both pet’s he placed a long chain, connecting them to each other for the night. “Indeed you have taught your Little Prince well. I would never lie and say I am less than impressed with this. But so much more can be learned from example.”

They must have presented a most pathetic sight, but it was all the more magnificent to see the prince smile at them as though the two could not have been more precious. And so he began to use the cane on both of them, tenderizing their rumps until both shone hot and red and Loki had begun to weep. “Such tears! Such sincerity!” Roger’s looked to Stark with chastisement. “Should you not comfort him?” Stark did not hesitate even a moment but slipped his tongue out and lapped at the salty tears, cleaning them from Loki’s cheeks. “Good boys.” Roger’s whispered and began to whip them again.

Loki and Stark felt a touch between their thighs and both men blushed to realize how painful their cocks had become, standing proudly erect despite the anguish being visited on their bottoms. Their master noted it as well, and gave them permission to rub their towers together, provided they did not attempt to avoid the blows. Their pelvis made connection and lubrication was given to slicken the movement. Flesh moved against flesh, each ridge and arch bringing the other pleasure as the friction between their cocks increased their mutual desire. So engrossed in this were they that neither noticed Rogers switching to the heavy flogger until the first lash of it met their backs. Loki cried out and began to sob openly, disappearing into the submission of this moment. Stark reached forward to his body, thrusting his hips up again and again, trying so hard to give Loki enough distracting pleasure.

But Rogers was not about to refuse Stark his due. He laid into Stark again, knowing full well what he could take. His lashes were not limited to his buttocks and thighs, but stripes were left on his shoulders and back till he was well awake and pinkened everywhere. He was gaspingly short of breath, Loki now licking down his neck trying to comfort this agony. There was a desperation between them, Loki watching his master being broken down, revealed as something not quite so high and perfect as the man who had trained him. But it did not make Stark diminished in his eyes.

Somehow, it made him all the more precious.

From the wall, Roger’s took a yardage of silk and loosened it from its hook, allowing Loki and Stark to sink to their knees. He took a few moments to touch the both, giving comfort from his languid and gentle touches against their scalps, petting them, cosseting them even to help ease into the next part. He bade them work together to undo his trousers, and his cock sprang forth hard and heavy like the mast of a ship. “Gentle now, sweet pets, my Iron Man and his Little Prince. There is no rush to this night.” Outside they could hear the cheers and bustling of people still going about the fete. But both men could bring their focus only to the throbbing length in front of them. Tongue unfurled from lips and they shared in the delight of it, Stark taking charge of the head while Loki busied himself with the shaft. Every so foten their lips would touch, and the two men would look at one another. Loki so deeply enthralled by this development, Stark unable to cast the shame and fear from his own eyes.

“Why so glum, sweet Anthony?” Rogers questioned in light tones. “It once was that you sucked me down with such vigor I often wondered if I could withstand your ardor.” He smacked his pets cheek smartly and Stark gave a soft cry. “Could it be perhaps, not that you do not wish to suckle me, but rather that you are terrified of your own sweet pet seeing you debauched so?” Stark pulled back and for once was so distraught he could not make himself look up. But Rogers was not done. He pressed Stark down onto his manhood, hearing and thrilling at the wet sucking noises that barely escaped as Stark’s throat was full of him. “Why do you despair? Can you not see the adoration in his eyes? The passion as you are pushed as he has been?”

Stark’s eyes widened and darted to Loki, burning red across his cheeks as the young lord gazed back at him with shy confirmation. Rogers beckoned him close and removed the gag, unbinding his arms but leaving the chain between them. “Speak to him, Little Prince. If there is anything you might say to him, say so now. I will not reprimand you for it.” He promised and then told Stark in a firm voice. “No matter what he should say, you are not to stop moving your mouth against me.” The O ring forbid him to close his jaw, and prevented him from disallowing Rogers from pushing as deep as he pleased. He gaged a bit and nodded, showing he understood. “Speak now, Little Prince.”

Loki licked his lips, swallowing against the dry mouth. “My, Sir. Dear sweet Sir.” Loki said, his chest heaving. “I do not wish you to show such agony when I see you this way. It does not lessen you! It does not make you smaller in my eyes!” he promised, reaching out cautiously to touch Stark and then, when he was not admonished, to pull in behind him and wrap his arms about Stark’s waist. “Did you not often tell me how improved, how magnificent I was in my submission? How grand I could be in the pride of being so well toned in performance and grace? Do you then not see your own grace now?” he kissed Stark’s neck and could see the tension in his thighs. His master was very near coming. And even though they were in this moment both pets, Loki did very much see Stark still as his master. “You think I would love you less for revealing this passion to me?”

Stark could not help it. He pulled back, jerking his head around to Loki as the wet trail plopped to the floor. He wanted to speak, his brown eyes naked and revealed in so many ways.

“I love you, Sir.” Loki smiled and a lightness mixed with terror entered his heart. “I love you Anthony!”

Stark began to weep, his legs tucked under him and for a brief moment looking quite helpless. He shook his head, not grasping the possibility of it, but Rogers gave him kindness and undid his gag, letting Loki for once take charge and embrace Stark with kisses and warmth. He whispered the three words again and again, as though he could force them into being. Stark began to laugh with his sobbing tears and embraced Loki in return, his arms so much stronger and more captivating. Loki was breathless from the squeeze but he dare not interrupt it. “I love you, my darling Little Prince.” Stark said at last.

Rogers allowed them as long of a moment as he dared. He had dropped the rules for the sake of this. It was far more important for these two to come to grips with the truth of their need of one another. He let them wind down from their shared emotional bliss, his own cock unyielding in its desire, and then took the ring from both their collars into his hands. “To bed them, my darling boys.” He said in kind tones and both sets of eyes looked up at him adoringly in thanks.

Rogers reclined on the pillows and set Stark, now Anthony, on all fours, bidding Loki to help prepare his master for penetration. Loki joyed at the task. He devoured Anthony with his mouth, his tongue flicking and diving into the warm, dusky puckered entry. Anthony wailed, undone by his pet’s skill and wriggled under these attentions for many long minuets. When he entryway was all moist and glistening, Loki turned himself on his back and slid under his teacher’s pelvis, taking the thick, heavy cock into his lips as his fingers encouraged the entry open. Anthony called out his bliss, eyes heavily lidded, and was met again by Roger’s cock, sucking it deep and hard till he had to plead around it to be allowed to finish.

“Only if your Little Prince might drink it up as I take you.” Rogers permitted as he repositioned himself behind Anthony. Loki was kind enough to grasp his master’s cheeks and hold them open for the princes gracious and generous manhood. It split the firmly muscled anus open and Anthony gave a choked sob of hungry pleasure, spilling his seed into Loki’s waiting mouth. Loki took his time, waiting for the droplets to fall to their own weigh onto his tongue as Rogers motions jerked Anthony back and forth. He was, for the first time, being given free rein to stroke and touch as he pleased, exploring Anthony’s body at his leisure. And he marveled lovingly over the strong, muscular thighs and taunt buttocks, the chiseled abdomen and broad chest. He did so wish to be playful and so, with a touch of impish glee, Loki placed the excess skin of his master’s scrotum between his teeth and held. He did not bite, to be truthful, but rather held, forcing each thrust from Rogers to pull Anthony’s balls tight. Not to be preferential, but he fondled the prince’s testicles warmly in his palm, giving them light tugging motions.

Both men hollered out their surprise and joy, and Roger’s laughed breathlessly. “Clever Little Prince!” He teased as he finished inside of Anthony, pulling out and instructing Loki to lap at the now tender and weak pucker. He gave it every earnest effort, tasting the salty release and drinking out down. Loki pulled back but a bit, sympathizing greatly with the welted stripes left on Anthony from the cane. He kissed them tenderly, smoothing his hands along the raised and red skin. When the reaction was a shiver of agony and a moan of desire, Loki continued with impunity.

“You delight in him.” Rogers said smoothly, watching their interaction. “And he in you.” He stroked Anthony’s hair and invited him to sit up at last, the man’s eyes almost limpid from their interaction. With one hand he stroked the eager cock to firm erection again, with the other he took a hard and frankly quite large plug and slid it with great caution into Anthony’s waiting entryway. He gasp was musical. Then Rogers pulled Loki forward, cradling the leaner young man in his arms, the prince’s cock at the ready. “You have not come yet tonight, have you Little Prince.”

“No my Prince I have not.” Loki admitted in a whimpering tone.

“And your cock shows it’s endurance to great effect.” Rogers touched the tip of it, pulling the precum from the head as Loki shook. “But I think you have earned you relief, Little Prince. So then…” his fingers found the pale and pink hole and he lubricated them well, slicking them in and out. “Speak then to your master. Bid him end your suffering.” Loki barely had to ask before Anthony fell onto his pelvis with a loving embrace of tongue and lips. It did not take long, endurance was one thing, but no man could withhold his need for eternity! A few clever strokes of Anthony’s tongue and Loki lost himself inside the wet mouth, somewhat humiliated that he had not held out but a bit longer to enjoy the sensation.

But Roger’s was not done with them yet. His two fingers began to open Loki wider, slowly, ever so slowly making room. He laughed sweetly at the kneeling moans as Anthony kissed the inside of Loki’s thighs, encouraging his passions to grow again. Tenderly and with great care, he pressed two fingers into the Little Prince’s opening, helping bring it to greater awareness. Loki’s sounds were less than human, and yet so resplendent that neither could find will to chastise him for such a display. Rogers and Anthony shared a knowing smile, and Loki wept to be so well cherished.

“My Iron Man.” Rogers began. “Lift him onto me. I would have us share his tightness.”

At first, Loki’s brain was far too addled by pleasure to take true meaning from this, for as the Prince’s cock impaled him, he lost all sense of self and was aware only of the full and stretched occupation of his body. But as Anthony’s fingers again made their way in and began to pull him further, it became too clear. Loki shook his head vigorously, pleading, begging in gesture and expression, and Anthony kissed his nipples to calm him. “Do you wish to call off?” he asked softly, his eyes showing no rebuke. Loki winced and trembled so weakly, but shook his head with a no in response. Anthony took a generous amount of oil and slathered it against the pulled tightness as Roger’s halted his slow lifting and settling of Loki’s body. He let his manhood slip almost out, giving enough room for Anthony to come along side of him. The held Loki, together, shushing his fear, soothing his tense and worried thighs, and neatly, firmly, tucked both their cocks into his writhing frame.

And Loki screamed.

They embraced the darling pet, Roger’s pulling back his hair despite the deep moans coming from his perfect lips. Telling Loki how good he was, what a fine pet he was and how Anthony had every right to be so proud of him. Anthony smothering the youth with kiss after kiss, letting Loki wrap arms around his shoulders for balance and comfort. Unbeknownst to his masters, Loki’s pitiable lamentation was less one of pain, and more an expression of shock at his own abilities. Slowly, carefully, they began to move within him at friction causing pace, each man sliding in and out as it pleased him. Oh how wickedly they used him, and for all his tender sobbing and warbled moans, he cherished every second of this! Loki sang out wordlessly, pressed between them, utterly without resistance and totally used for pleasure. They drove into him, Rogers and Anthony both, at times filling him so completely that he thought for sure he may well burst.

He thought then of the ignominious plug now filling up his teacher’s anus and carefully, deftly reached a hand behind Anthony, taking hold of the base and moving it fluidly in and out. The reaction was nearly as favorable as his own and those deep brown eyes seemed to lose all strength. Roger’s tossed his head back and gave a cheerful laugh, pounding and thrusting his hips up with greater speed. Loki was put under great anguish to keep his momentum, Anthony kissing his chest and helping him to move. There was a heated splash of warmth that filled him and Roger’s made a growling, intimate sound from within his throat, giving a last few firm presses before withdrawing and letting Anthony take his pet with great virility. He contented himself to watch this mutual bliss, Anthony now able to move in and out with ease, Loki prying the phallus in and out and making Stark strain to make the moment last. The sweet Little Prince lost himself, his semen splashing against Anthony’s belly and his master could no longer contain his ardor.

Anthony lifted Loki into his lap and took hold of his hair, rutting with him in almost senseless need. They were entangled, as though he was sore and desperate from the inside out, Loki caressed the back of Anthony’s head and nuzzled himself into the man he loved. Who shared that love and gave it back to him in spades. Loki was crying hopelessly as Anthony finished within him, the two men using one another as support as they turned to Rogers, waiting with baited breath for what might next be asked of them.

And by the skin of gods teeth Roger’s was not done with them yet!

Both men were made to bow down in Castigation, their rumps still quite pink and now quite well used, open and raw. “Gaze now at one another, become absorbed in each other’s eyes.” He instructed, his fingers pressing into them, finding that secret hidden point within every man and manipulating it like a marble. The chain between them clinked as they moved and groaned, the intensity of the sensation continuing to build. He brought it expertly to a head, making both Anthony and Loki need to cum, and then forbidding it them. He smartly took hold of their testicles, instructing each man to close his legs so that they might form a tightly pulled sphere. He tapped each of them with the back of his hand and gave a languid smile. “So full and round, one might think them emptied by now.” He chuckled at their shared humiliation as he took the crop and began to snap it sharply across the exposure. Roger’s did this until they wept, tears staining the sheets horribly. Again he applied his fingers, bringing them both to torment and blissful destruction. And then the crop was brought back down with more fierce attention.

Did Anthony know that Roger’s sought to break him before his pet? How could he know that this was the best and ultimately only way to ensure that they know the depths of one another on a level of equality. The tutelage of Loki was brought to fruition and well done on all accounts. But this had progressed beyond mere educational purposes. There was affection. Deep, genuine love that threatened to weaken if both Loki and Anthony did not grasp that they were in truth companions to one another. If Anthony would allow himself to break and be comforted by Loki, then he might indeed know this for more than passing love due to the intense complexity of what they had shared in four months’ time. Loki, for his part, needed to know that he was trusted. Roger’s was not wholly unaware of the private situation of the Odinson family. Loki needed to see that Anthony’s love for him was based on real admiration and understanding, not for the simple submission of his body.

I must break him, and break him well, even if I must be ruthless. Roger’s thought with after due consideration as he worked them up. When both cocks were hanging fat and sore between their thighs, he instructed Loki to sit now in the chair that had only held Stark and Roger’s. It felt strange to be so raised, and yet he settled into it with ease. Roger’s instructed Anthony to kneel on the floor before him in Humility, and then turned towards the Little Prince. “What would you have him do?” he asked then, in the most curious of tones, effecting a look of shock from Loki. “If I gave you this crop now, told you that you might exert such control over Iron Man as he has been given over you, what then would you do?” Roger’s smile was so innocent it was near unbelievable that he might now be handing this leather bound instrument of punishment over. He could see Anthony begin to shake with pride and fury and wondered then if he ever could be broken.

Loki’s trepidation lasted only a moment. “I suppose the cider press might be a bit much of an exertion.” He chuckled nervously and Anthony gave a short laugh. He considered, then smirked with great mischief and walked to the chest. Slowly, he slid his foot out to the effect of excellent seduction. “I would have him adore me. Give me such affection.”

Roger’s smiled. “Then command it of him.”

Loki bit his lower lip. “Anthony, sweet Anthony, beloved Anthony. Adore me.”

And Anthony smiled, kissing over Loki’s feet, caressing under the arch of the foot and licking them coquettishly. It tickled and Loki wriggled joyfully in the chair. From here he embraced the ankles, then the firm, lean calves, his mouth devouring them with pure devotion in his eyes. He tongue cleaned the droplets of semen on Loki’s thighs, swallowing it without complaint or indignity. Closer and closer he drew until he was face to face with Loki’s erection, his eyes pleading for permission. With a teasing air, Loki extended his hand, letting Anthony lap at it. And yet, he did so enjoy this control, that he gave his lover a light smack, forbidding him speech. Instead he tangled his finger’s in the teacher’s hair and buried those firm jawlines against his pelvis. “My Prince, if it would please you, I would ask for some discipline for him, strict upon his buttocks.” Anthony’s fingers gripped the rug and he whimpered with a begging high pitch.

Roger’s nodded pleasantly and reached then for his trouser, and slipped the belt from it, wrapping the buckles about his hand so the might not harm him. And oh how horridly he set about this exposed cheeks and thighs! Stark did his duty to Loki, but still then became a sobbing mess between his thighs as he was punished to the point to bruising and welted so hard he lower extremities burned like hellfire! And still Rogers did not halt! His muscles ripples and flowed with grace beyond compare as the belt fell and the leather cracked in the room. Loki was not becoming reticent during this, for it did arouse him greatly to see Stark forced to swallow his own tears along with his pet’s well slicked cock. His pale hips bucked and pitched, making the handsome man gag hotly. Loki adored those glistening eyes, the pool of tears welling up before trickling down his cheeks. And finally when Loki was ready to release, he pulled back his master and let himself release on the strong face, watching him flash through an expression of sure pure and unadulterated submission that Loki nearly clutched him tight to comfort him. “My Sir.” He whispered, weeping a little himself. “My strong, brave Sir.”

Anthony licked up what dripped and gave a sheepish grin, he attempted to move and then pain shot through his face. Roger’s pinched the sore and burning welts and strangled sob tore through his throat. “”Oh my Iron Man!” Roger’s said with great sympathy. He guides both Loki and Anthony to the bed, taking from the vanity a bottle of oil and heating it by rubbing it between his palms. “You first, Little Prince.” He instructed and laid hands of such might against his muscles that Loki became a pool on indecent indulgence. Stark’s hands joined in, taking control once more to sooth the aching and exhausted muscles. They coddled him sweetly, ensuring his relaxation from such a draining experience. When Loki had been well tended to, his body limp and ready for sleep, Roger’s then tended to Stark, taking special care of his large strapping welts, though it pained the man to have them touched. Loki found some energy to stroke his hair lovingly, giving him the courage to endure but a bit longer.

When all was said and done, Roger’s slipped in between the two men, not parting them, but rather giving them the connection that allowed them to remain, for now, as equals without fear of recrimination. He wrapped an arm about them, holding each one tight at their fingers touched and the two men had eyes for one another alone. He said nothing. There was nothing to be said. But as the fireworks outside signaled the end of the revelry outside and a cheer went up from the departing guests, there was true contentment in one room of Stark manor.

***

The sad facts remain that such contentment is but a momentary existence. Roger’s remained till morning, long enough to enjoy breakfast and, perhaps, to inspect how Loki did preform his daily duties. The night between the three of them had been such a magnanimous display, but yet all things were to be kept in moderation. Roger’s was still a prince and had duties to preform, and as such he could not stay for long. But he did give Stark a most affectionate kiss and gave Loki a tender petting before taking his leave.

With the equilibrium reestablished, the pacing of the days returned to its routine. But, were one to have the luxury of speaking to the servants, they would say that much had changed. Where before Stark had given himself much credit for restraint, he now held back but enough to maintain that Loki was still being trained and given proper management. He did not balk from giving him all the affectionate pettings he wished for, nor did he hold back when he felt a kiss or caress would be desired. Oh there was still the rigors of discipline and punishment for his shortcomings. But the tenderness made all so much easier to bare, and Loki was determined not to let this development of love make him spoilt as he had been before. Yet there were more smiles now. More care.

And the number of nights where Loki slept in Stark’s arms far outnumbered those he slept on the pallet.

And then it so happened that a harried messenger came to the doors of the house of Stark. He was breathless, his horse in a fine lather as he asked with rushed respect for the young lord Loki. Perhaps a bit nervous that their secret had been discovered, Loki dressed quickly, coming down stairs to see Stark holding a letter with a look of dread on his strong face. “Loki…” he said as calmly as he might. “Loki you must return home.”

Panic struck him. Had he done wrong? Had they been discovered? If Thor had not spoken to this then why would it have come now?

But Stark’s reveal was far worse. “Loki, my pet my love.” he handed the letter to him. “Your father is dying.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE FINAL CHAPTER
> 
> *wipes sweat off head* I just want to say how grateful I am for everyone who Subscribes, Bookmarked and left Kudos on this work. A small but loyal contingent of people who enjoy your work is wonderfully pleasing and kept me going even when I wondered if I was writing anything worth reading. So please, please just let me say how happy I am! 
> 
> And before you ask, YES. I am going to write companion pieces to this! So make sure to follow me and keep an eye out for:  
> Hawk Hunt-Natasha and Clint  
> &  
> Hammers and Hemlines- Sif and Thor

There was no time for good-byes, no ability to do anything more than a look of pained desperation as Loki made ready to leave. The doctors had said that the outlook was grim and that his mother was in tears, and Loki could not abandon her to how grief alone. Thor was in Edinburgh, and though he had been reached the road was long. There was nothing that could be shown between them but a brief exchange of pleasantries as Loki mounted a horse next to the messenger. “I will have your things sent to you.” Stark promised, helping him up if only to touch his thigh inconspicuously for just a moment longer. “Farwell.” He said then, a sad smile on his face. “Little Prince.”

And Loki felt the breaking of his heart.

The ride that had taken two days on a carriage took one on a set of fast horses. Even through his worry Loki felt a sort of estranged weight come over him as the estates came into view. But he pushed this aside as he came to his mother, holding the stalwart Frigga in his arms and calming her. “Speak to me!” he pleaded. “What happened! Father was in the picture of health when I left.”

“Indeed he was. The constitution of Odin has always been bold and with much strength.” Frigga assured him. “But shortly after your departure he began to take to coughing. The doctors thought little of it, but it persisted through out the next month. I believe the worst of it came when Thor snuck from the house to visit you with my blessing, but without that of Odin.” Frigga shook her heard. “He was in a fury, which exacerbated the condition, and he took to bed, too ill to rise. And then came the lawyers and barristers. They had been suggesting to your father to complete the disinheritance before, but he had held out. I do believe that his threat to you was idle. He merely wished to encourage change in you. To give you reason to strive. Then one night, when a fever took hold, he signed the papers without my knowledge, though I managed to take hold of them and keep them hidden.” She spoke as she led him through the house. “When Thor returned he bettered, but they fought most viciously. Thor wished for your return, demanded it even. He said there was good reason and that he had found you much improved already, but your father was insistent. They argued and when Thor left to complete his officer training, your father shut himself up in his office, refusing to see the physician!” Frigga shook her hands, as though this had enraged and confounded her as well. “He has been there since. He permits me in, and when he is asleep I have brought doctors to examine him. His fever is unchecked, he is weak and has not eaten in days. He bout with delirium!” They rounded up the stairs and Frigga stopped him at the door. “Loki. My son, your father is dying. But in this moment in this time of deepest sadness, he did ask that both his sons be returned to his side.” She held him, a tear down her cheek. “I am sorry that you returned home to such tragedy.”

“Better for me to be home now then not to have come at all.” Loki said with gentle candor and held his mother. “Thor will return home soon. Father is strong, he always has been, and perhaps he may still pull through this. And even if he is left somewhat weakened, Thor and I will attend to the duties of the household. Do not fear mother. Your sons are ever present to care for you.” He promised and saw the surprise in her eyes at his words. There was deep gratitude there and Loki returned it with kindness before steeling himself to walk in the door.

Odin was asleep in the bed, and though he attempted to be quiet, the click shut stirring the patriarch from his slumber. He roused, his head lolling toward the intruder. How old he has become! Loki though. How had his father never seemed so aged? In but a few months he looked so very frail and damaged. “Father.” He spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. “Father, I am home.”

And in a brief moment, a bright light shone in those blue eyes. “My son!” he said, his voice horse. “My son you, you have come back to me!” he reached out and arm and Loki knelt by the bedside, taking it tenderly. How thin his skin seemed, the blue veins of it so vivid. “Oh my boy, I never should have sent you afar. How quiet and lonely this house has become without you.”

And Loki felt his chest swell. “It is no matter father. All men must be improved through experience and time. A man can only take his child so far before he must allow them to grow as they will.” He reached up and moved a stray hair from Odin’s face. “I am grateful to you in truth. It was more cleverly done then you might imagine.”

“You do seem much more pleasant than when last we spoke.” Odin chuckled in good humor and then began a fit of coughing. Loki leapt to press cool water to his lips, soothing the itch. When it had calmed Odin looked at him with such love and sincerity that the old man sighed heavily. “I have no always been fair to you and your brother. Nay, let me speak.” He insisted when Loki tried to shush him. “Let a dying old man speak his faults at last. When you were children, things were so much simpler. My Little Thor and Loki. My pride and my joy. We were not so endowed then as we are now, and I think often that perhaps we might have been better for it. There was more time then.” He clutched Loki’s wrist cuff and smiled. “Do you, do you remember when we took holiday at the beach? Your mother and I took the two of you out in the early morning to catch crabs and mussels and we ate seafood and butter as the sun rose?”

Loki laughed, holding back tears. “Yes I do! And you and mother left us with the servants. And when I asked Thor where you had gone off to, he told me you had gone to find us a new baby brother!”

The two men laughed together and such love was in the room that the sun came out from behind the clouds to warm the room. “I wished often to go back to that. But there were duties to preform. Policies to ensure. The good name and standing of our family to restore. Years seemed to pass in a blink and I, I forgot what joy there had been in a little financial humility.” He sighed. “And when I emerged from papers and files and ink to find my family much increased in wealth and my sons displaced from one another. I found I barely knew the both of you and I was so confused as to where my little boys had gone.” He looked uncomfortable with himself. “I reacted poorly.”

“We are all but human.” Loki excused. “I was a pistol of mischief and spoilt humor merely looking to be shot.”

Odin shrugged. “But it is all gone now. You have returned to me, my dear sweet son.” He held Loki’s cheek and smiled as though he might break down and weep. “My good golden Thor.”

And Loki’s eyes widened with shock, then understanding flooded his face.

Odin coughed again. “Where then is Loki? My little Loki? Did they not send note to Stark or has that rascal delayed?” he looked around as though the image of his second son might pop out from behind the curtains.

Loki’s bottom lip trembled weakly but he held it back. “Loki will be here soon.” He promised in even tones, clenching his hands in Odin’s and smiling hard. “I promise, he is on his way as we speak.”

“Ah good. Very good. I wished him to know.” He gave pause and blinked emptily several times, as though he could not quite recall his own mind. “I wished him to know, that he has ever been so dear to me. Even when I was angry with his misdeeds, he was ever dear to me.”

He could not stand it! It was too much! But he bore it for fear that these were the last moment’s he might spend at his father’s side. When Odin did at last fall to sleep again, Loki walked from the room, breaking into his mother’s arms and weeping freely as he had not done since a child. Frigga held her son close and tried to sooth him, giving comforting words. “Why did you not tell me? Why did you let me go in so unprepared?” he pleaded from her.

Frigga hushed him gently. “Because even in his state of disarray, he spoke often of you kindly, in a manner he has not done enough. If I had told you that his mind has begun to slip, you would not have heard his words with a pure and open heart. It would have been tainted by this knowledge. But think now Loki. Think that this is what he might have said to you so many times, had he but a little more courage.” She told him, letting it sink in.

But there was little time to consider it. With Odin in such a state the doctors and physicians were in and out, as well as the litany of lawyers attempting to get his signature on many documents. Loki was somewhat heartened to see that no matter how many times the subject of his placement was brought up, Odin roared his fury that anyone would dare cast out his ‘little Loki’. Sometimes he asked for his sons, and Frigga and Loki took turns providing him comfort until Thor arrived, chasing out all the barristers and paper men with a roar like hell had been opened. He tore up the papers and threw them in the first before he could even have the chance to speak to his father, and it was in that moment that Loki knew why Odin had really given Thor the reigns as the next patriarch.

So when Odin passed, they mourned as a family and without reservation.

There was much to do, much to prepare for, and so the family was busy and had little time for private talk. The funeral was arranged and Loki was surprised to see Stark attend, calm and well maintained. And though they exchanged pleasant words and a heartfelt sorrow, Loki longed to be allowed to be taken into Stark’s arms and weep himself until too tired to move anymore. There was a brief instant when Stark seemed prepared to do just that, but there were too many eyes, too many mouths, and all he could give his little pet was a sad smile of condolence.

Neither man realized that Thor observed this with interest.

And Thor began to put the household in order. He ensured that Loki’s inheritance was left to him as equal portions to his own, as well and giving their mother a rich stipend for her enjoyment to do as she pleased. He became absent most evenings, now that his duties were moved into those of the man of the house. And yet, Loki seemed to notice that letters were arrive for his elder brother on a weekly basis. Letters that smelled of leather and perfume. Thor would receive them wish a dark blush and his eyes darted about. He would let no one see them, but once Loki heard the messenger tell Thor that he had yet another note from the Lady Sif.

During the autumn, Thor took a week’s working holiday, insisting that he was off to the docks to see to their merchant ships. But when he returned, his shoulders were greatly loosened and there was a rather silly grin on his freshly shaven face that he could just barely contain. Perhaps no one else noticed, but tucked away in his pocket was a pink silken ribbon tied into a bow which Thor could not seem to stop thumbing whenever he seemed troubled.

Loki smiled a little at this, but kept all commentary to himself.

Days moved into weeks which transpired into months, and while Midsummer had seemed but a while ago, Loki soon realized that it was near Christmas, the warm days having now stretched into snow and chilling cold. He was not at all shocked to see a gift delivered to him. When he opened it there was a set of fine cufflinks in the shape of apricots with a small note,

_Always remember._

_-S_

Loki then felt the tug of his hear that he had denied for near half a year. There had been so much chaos, such sorrow and mourning. The confusion and trepidation of his family’s future had taken precedent over selfish and petty person needs and he had striven to do his duty as a son. His sleep was often troubled and he would, when he was sure of not being interrupted, take a bit of silken binding from a fabric bundle and wrap it about his neck and wrists just tight enough to feel the weight of it there, never enough to harm of cut off breath. It helped him sleep soundly, though he was always careful to have them off and out away by the time the servants came and awoke him.

He could barely walk past the stables anymore. The leather tack and smell of fresh hay was a torment to him which he bore with grace and civility. He strove to act in all ways as a good and gentlemanly fellow, and it was marked by the family and friends who knew them best. By the time Christmas holidays were over, Frigga said to Thor that they might cast the gloom off the household and consider a New Years Ball. Thor smiled and relented, and, perhaps noticing his brother’s melancholy, included Stark on the guest list.

Thor could not decide his opinion of the man. It was undeniable the great change wrought in Loki! He was polite, soft, even to such an extent that the servants took notice and began smiling at him where once they might have dreaded his callous presence. He was helpful and accommodating, even taking hold of the household finances and ensuring that they remained well managed and cared for. And yet Loki had gained pride as well in a most candid fashion. He was not humbled, not lessened, but merely retained an enhanced graceful in his return. So Thor could not pretend as though there had been no benefit to Stark’s unorthodox methodology.

And his own person experience in this realm had recently become greatly increased.

He added Sif to the party list.

But there was still this seeming gloom that hung about Loki’s shoulders, even in the gayest of company. Now that the other nobles had taken notice of his youngest brother’s changed disposition, they had come sniffing around with their daughters once more. And Loki continued his training by receiving them all with grace and dignity afford to them, even going so far as to pour the tea and serve them himself, which seemed to delight the ladies with the intimacy and affection of it. Even their fathers, who did of course chaperone their children, were amused by this display and found it comforting. Thor alone noticed that the light of his smile never did reach his eyes, the quiet misery that hung about him. And as kind and sweetly worded as he was, there was no sincerity to it beyond knowing that he did truly not wish to offend the ladies present.

But Thor still held his reservations. And so he conceived of a scheme.

Loki was sitting in the drawing room, quietly reading a book when there was a knock at the doors. Frigga came in, behind her a slender and lovely young woman who was introduced as the Lady Lorelei. And Loki had to admit she was a stunning creature to behold, all lithe and pretty, with plush lips and long silken eyelashes. She curtsied very prettily and sat in a manner which indicated good breeding, but he could not overlook the slight purse of her lips as she spoke, nor the light tone of annoyance as though she’s rather not be present at all. Frigga stayed for a moment as the tea was served and the biscuits brought, helping spur on conversation, when one of the servants came and informed her that one of her lady friends had arrived in need of her council. Though it was most unorthodox, her confidence in her son was so increased that she permitted them to continue their tea alone.

Lorelei gave him a look of unlimited candor, her eyes looking his frame up and down. “You are not so bad as you might be.” She said directly. “I had expected a fiend, but instead before me is set a friendly face.”

“I have in my life been both dear lady.” Loki said diplomatically. “But now I do strive to be more friend then foe, for the sake of my family.”

“Oh.” She did then seem disappointed! “I had perhaps thought.” She gave paused and waved her hand as though it were of little concern and she should not have brought it up. “My father has bit me come here and submit myself to your inspection for the possibility of marriage. I suppose I find you amiable enough, and seeing as that my options are now limited to you and a man near older then my father himself, I would be amiable as well. Shall we wed then?” She said all this with an efficient and businesslike manner, as though brokering a deal across a desk. Loki felt a small thrill at her sharpness and direction and his eyebrows raised.

“Your frankness puts me to shame lady.” Loki said cautiously. “Are you so eager then to wed, or is it all your father’s doing?”

Lorelei seemed to wonder whether she might trust him, and quickly decided. “My father finds me a most difficult and troublesome daughter. I would rather study and give myself over to travel, and yet his is of the sort who believes a woman’s place is to procreate for a husband of her station. I would have no qualms to a husband of course, provided he would permit me my interests and that we would not interfere overmuch in one another’s personal lives. But, and forgive me but my nature will not permit rumors and hearsay, he has heard rumors of your time spent with Stark and the nature of your reeducation. He thinks you will provide me with a stronger hand then his to keep me in line.”

And Loki could not help himself. He put a hand to his eyes and began to laugh heartily! Oh what folly comes from rumors! What foolishness for any to think that I was in my own command! He looked up and saw an embarrassed blush about Lorelei and felt quite sorry for her. “Your father believe me capable of taking you in hand?” he asked and shook a little when she nodded. “Oh Lorelei. Pretty, uncompromising Lorelei.” He stood, setting down his tea cup without a clink and came to sit next to her. “Why should anyone wish to change you from yourself?” And this did so surprise her that she batted her eyelashes and gasped a little. Loki smiled, a very friendly smile, and spoke to her patiently. “Lorelei, the nature of my education with Stark appears to have undergone many twists and turns in your fathers mind. But let me confirm to you now that I was not the man that you have before you now. I was a rakish fool and a spoilt young man, and it required a great deal of carefully administered discipline to make me more courtly.”

Lorelei was a clever girl and covered her lips softly when she realized what was meant. “You mean to tell me you did not spend the summer disciplining wayward ladies?”

Again, he could not contain his laughter! “Not unless you would count me a lady!” He could feel her pulse quicken and there was an inkling of a glean in her eye that told him just how deeply interested he was. Dare he take the chance? It had been so long. Loki stood and in one swift movement, removed the belt from his trousers, trusting the buttons to keep them up. Lorelei jumped at the sudden movement and then watched with careful trepidation as he folded the thick leather in half. Loki gave her a kind smile and then knelt, presenting it to her as a sword. “My lady, it would seem to me you are made of great mettle. Would you consign yourself to be a pot upon a stove, or give yourself to the forge and be made into a blade?”

She paused, then reached forward and took the belt, winding it about her palm almost as though it were natural. She gave an almost frantic giggle and Loki smiled back at her. “Command me Madam.” He said softly and showed his sincerity by kneeling to her pretty shoes and kissing them. He could feel the tension in her frame and the delight in her eyes. But she was so confused, she hardly had any idea of what she might make him do! Before Loki could give her assistance she reached forward with bold hands and entangled them in his hair. “Across my lap.” She said breathlessly and Loki followed her with ease, displaying himself so as to be well balanced. Lorelei touched his bottom and let loose a girlish giggle, feeling somewhat unrestrained. It took her several tries to get a good swing from the belt, but Loki was patient with her and when he at last felt a good solid crack land on his cheeks his body went rigid with a familiar feeling and he had to stop himself from calling out.

When the belt began to fall with perfect rhythm against him and he knew he would sooner or later give into it, and pleaded out. “Please Madam, if we wish this to remain secret, do put your gloves in my lips so I might not speak?” She had a moment of brilliant and held her soft fingers before his face, making him take each finger delicately between his teeth and pull her lace gloves off without ruining them. She folded them carefully and shoved the firmly between his lips, muffling his cries as the belt began to fall again.

Oh goodness it was wonderful to be in this position once more. She could not bring down the belt with as much force, not from lack of strength but rather having no practice. She was being sweetly dominant, and it was good to be so controlled, so put upon once more. When fifty lashes had fallen against his bottom she slipped a finger against the hem of his trousers and peeked, seeing the pinkness of his flesh. She wriggled under him and bade him sit up, her eyes wondering as he fell into Attention. She questioned his response and when he told her how Stark had taught him, how she thrilled! Lorelei, pretty Lorelei put him through the postures again, and again. And Loki gave credit where it was due she was as exacting as Stark! But the realization began to come to him when he found the pose of Endure and held it. He was so proud of himself! So thrilled, but when he looked up to her to see some accolades she merely pushed him to the next pose.

He did not blame her form it. After all, how could Lorelei know what he had gone through to learn this?

She made him pour the tea again, using only his mouth and then had him bring her the cup and saucer in the same manner without spilling a drop. He knelt expertly and impressed himself somewhat by managing to keep hold on the saucer while she lifted the cup, sipped, and placed it back. “Oh this is such fun!” Lorelei said and smiled at him fondly. She gave him an impromptu strike against the cheek, and when he accepted it willingly, she gave him another. “Oh!” she gasped as the tea spilled and took the cup from him, helping to clean it up as they both laughed at the silliness of it all.

“Oh Loki.” Lorelei said happily. “Perhaps this was fated. Perhaps we were meant to meet now. If I should be made to consign myself to marriage then I would rather do so with one such as you who might provide some gaiety to our union.” She sat back and seemed much more at ease then the sharp woman who had come in. “Will you consent to marriage with me?” she asked plainly.

Loki found himself considering it for a moment. She was unpracticed, but showed potential through her creativity and desire to adapt. Still, as full of life and sweetness as she was, Lorelei could not, through any folly of her own, be Stark. “Forgive me my dear Madam. You are a true star who has yet begun to shine. And I can not help lift you to the height which you belong.”

The lady was disappointed, but nodded. “Well enough. I suppose I shall give myself now to marrying a man in his dotage.”

An idea sprung to him. “Mayhaps not.” He strode to the desk and took from it a pen and parchment. “My lady have you heard of the Baroness Natasha Barton?”

“Oh but of course! She is a lady of good standing and quality.”

Loki began writing a letter. “I shall instruct you now, and please do consider this a request and not an order to you. When your father returns, tell him that you do ardently wish to be married, but that you would refine your graces for your new station as the wife of your elder gentleman. This letter shall go to the Baroness quick as a whip and by the end of the week I shall not wonder if she is at your door, requesting for you to attend her so that she might garner you in the more courtly graces. You father will of course be thrilled, but he will be unknown to the true purpose of your visit. For now that I know you Lorelei, I do believe that you and the Baroness are of a like mind, though she more educated then you.” And Clint may well hate me or bless me for giving him two mistresses to obey! “And I do hope, sweet Lorelei, that one day you find a man who bows to your whims with all the passion I once held, for the man who taught me that bow is not a weakness.”

And so Lorelei went away, looking for the most part much more hopeful then whence she came.

Thor came to Loki in the evening, looking most put out. “And what was so wrong with this one?” he said smoothly. “Indeed from the laughter within the room whilst you two spoke we might have announced a wedding today!”

Loki chucked at Thor’s exasperation and turned to him. “She is indeed a fine woman. And she may indeed make someone a good and strong wife. But she is not for me Thor.” He paused, than continued, sure that a little cheek was warranted. “And if I may, dear brother, subtlety is not your strong suit. Do not press me thusly to wed. Or if it is within the need of our family that I should marry, then do pick for me.” Loki laid a hand to his shoulder. “Pick who would best benefit us, and I shall learn to talk of paint and pennies for her.”

And thus Loki’s misery was made plain to him.

When the New Year approached, Thor was stunned to see that Stark had elected not to come, pleading that he had business errands to attend to as he was expanding his trade into Denmark in the coming year and would be expecting to depart once the spring thaw made the seas safe to pass. It angered him! It angered Thor when it should have pleased him. How dare Stark not show his face, with Loki is such a state without him and clearly desiring to be returned to his hands! How dare he! And yet should this not please him? Surely, if kept apart for long enough, his brother would return to himself. Yet had it not been near eight months since they had last spoke? Wasn’t that long enough? Thor was confounded, so much so that it took him several minutes to realize he was fiddling with the pink ribbon Sif have gifted him with after their last, clandestine outing together. He lifted it to his nose and breathed deep.

He had promised her a due course of his time after the holidays were over. At least a week.

“Then there is nothing for it.” He muttered to himself.

***

The spring air was a lovely thing, clear and crisp in the morning as Thor and Loki took the family carriage out. Thor had made some complaint of needing to overview the shipping agencies again about a discrepancy in the cargo holds, as well as simply wishing to get out after a long and frustrating winter. Thor had, after much conversation, convinced Loki that it would be good for him to join. The man had barely left the house since Odin’s death, not even to ride, which had once been one of his favorite past times to escape the dull and dreary halls.

Loki would not admit it out loud, for it would have been terribly rude, but he was beginning to wonder why he never realized just how bored he had once been. The activities that had once filled his days and nights seemed colorless and without flavor. It was not that he was so depressed, but that he had noticed just how little depth he had before the events of last year. He was now full bodied and his mind opened to such things as most might never discover. It was not as though he had not tried. He had read most of the library, played chess with his brother. He had taken up his piano again, which pleased his mother to no end and it had given him some joy to play for her. He could not ride any more. It felt wrong to be on the horse rather than bound and made to gallop alongside it.

Loki took a deep breath and cast the thoughts from his mind. It was too painful.

Thor looked across at him speculatively and smiled when Loki caught him. “It seems to be a lovely spring this year.” He noted softly and Loki nodded. “Perhaps a good time to take an outing.”

Loki lifted his head from his thoughts. “Perhaps so. It might be good to go about for a while.” He paused. “Perhaps a holiday at the beach when the weather is warmer. I remember mother used to love it so.”

Thor nodded. “Yes. I believe we still have a small villa down there.” He sat up, steadying himself against the jostling of the horse. “Brother, I would know your mind on something.” Loki tilted his head, curious as to what might be asked of him. “Is it wrong, for a man to wish, to enjoy, having control rested from him?”

There was a long silence, and Loki noted that Thor was fingering the pink ribbon once more. He smiled with great understanding. “I think it would depend greatly upon the man.” Loki replied. “If I may elaborate, some men are handed power with such ease that, they behave as though they deserve to wield it. It makes them smug and boorish, and thus they can never bow, even when it would be to their benefit. Some men earn power, and so know better how defining and yet limit it can be to have it. These men can bow, though it is hard for them, because they worked so hard to obtain. Then there are men who never had power, but who wished for it so desperately that it consumed them. When they have it, they do not know what to do with it, and so their burden is greatly eased by having it taken from them.” Loki shrugged. “Perhaps all men are this at some point. But I believe that ability to surrender power without losing one’s pride makes you far stronger than most, for it shows a depth of character and humility that some will never reach.”

“Wisely spoke.” Thor admitted and his smile became wider as they approached the town. It was a quickly bustling day and there were many people about as they stopped the carriage and the two brothers walked towards the ships, Thor commenting offhandedly at the quality of the rigging and what would need to be repair before they took sail. Loki was not paying overmuch attention. It did feel good to get out of the house and he was enjoying the sites, so it came as shocked to hear his brother suddenly call out loudly “Ah! Good morning Mr. Stark!” About his head snapped and he saw Stark, Anthony, Sir standing there in traveling clothes, looking just as surprised as he to see them there.

“And good morning to you, Lord Odinson.” He greeted properly but his eyes automatically snapped to Loki and warmed him with a welcoming smile. “It is good to see you about and looking well.” He spoke to both, but there was no denying who the compliment was meant for.

Thor blustered gently and steadied himself. “Is this then your ship?” he indicted the fine vessel.

“Ah, Yes she is, I had her commissioned quite some time ago but we were not ready to begin shipping out till now.” Stark said, reigning his thoughts back in to where they aught be. By all the stars in heaven Loki did look so fair in the sunlight! How maddening to have him here! And yet how invigorating to again be so near him. The blush on his face and the barely contained little smile made this all the more difficult. “I shall be going with them, to Denmark.” And the little smile fell.

“Yes, I had heard. Now that you’ve managed to solidify your place here you wish to open trade with our Nordic allies.” Thor shifted a little. “Do you this this may be a long journey?”

“Oh I expect so.” Stark replied with a sad nod. “I do not have quite the connection there as I did in your fine country. Prince Roger’s was unbelievably helpful in providing me with contacts to stake my claim. So I expect to spend at least a year or two merely getting acquainted with the right people.”

“And perhaps you could use some assistance in this?” There was an immensely satisfied feeling as Stark blinked at him without understanding. Thor gave a smug little smile and looked to Loki. “My brother is quite talented in many aspects and can on the whole be indignantly charming. The truth is, the recent troubles, the inheritance, our father’s slipping towards the end of his life, have brought to me the realization that a man should not be so dependent upon his relations to secure his future.” Thor coughed. “You are a self-made man, Stark. You owe your success and your talents to yourself and this is to be commended. But you are not born into the nobility which might open doors for you in many places. My brother and I are.” He clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I would ask that you do the house of Odinson yet another favor. Take my brother on as your apprentice.”

Loki could barely keep from covering his gasp with his gloved hand as Stark’s eyes widened. “My Lord, are you quite certain?” His voice was filled with hope and shocked, as though this turn of events could not possibly be believed.

“Quite certain. Believe me I spent my hours debating it.” Thor coughed a bit nervously, and though his thoughts were his own, one might hazard a guess as to what he was thinking about. “I wish you to take him on for the length of your stay, however long as it may be, to have him as your apprentice in your business. In this way, my dear brother will never need be concerned to his financial security or his inheritance ever again. I would not have him so reliant upon the whims of fate for his welfare.”

“I would be infinitely pleased and honored.” Stark said breathlessly, then turned to Loki with a little fear. “If this is indeed what you would both wish.”

“I could not be more joyful at this opportunity!” Loki said with tears on his eyelashes, catching the sunlight beautifully! Damn these people! Damn the crowd and damn them all for intruding upon this moment where he must be forced to hold back before the man whom he so wished to hold and weep before!

“There are but two conditions!” Thor said firmly, still grappling a bit with his own discomfort on the matter. “This is no pleasure cruise. I do expect him to return well educated and able to help in managing the estate and our multiple businesses in all aspects.”

“On this I promise you, Lord Thor. I have found your brother an adept student when properly motivated.” Stark could not resist a small tease.

The elder brother winced and gathered his strength. “And the second being, that next year you return for the wedding.” And at their confused faces Thor did feel somewhat sheepish. “The Lady Sif and I are to become husband and wife, she agreed upon our last meeting.”

Stark smiled and simply could not resist. “Have you agreed as to who shall wear the wedding dress?” And Thor burned bright red across his cheeks and straightened his collar as though he suddenly found it much too tight.

The captain began to shout out to them that they were ready to take off and all must hurry aboard. Loki gave him brother a look of loving thanks. “Thor, Thor my dear brother. You have always looked out for me, haven’t you?”

“I have always tried. I have always wished for your happiness.” Thor promised and threw propriety to the wind, clasping Loki to his chest. “Does this make you happy? Tell me truth.”

Loki gave a wry chuckle. “Does Sif not make you happy, brother dear?”

Thor shook his head and laughed loudly. “Off with you then, and be sure to be entirely dedicated to you studies!” he yelled as the two men walked side by side up the gangplank and onto the ship.

“As though I would not ensure of it?” Stark called back and they stood on the prow as the anchor was weighed and pulled up. They kept their bodies controlled, just barely, until the harbor was nothing in the distance and the screeching call of the seagulls and the ocean breeze were the only noises. “I own this ship.” Stark said calmly. “Every man on board is in my employ and thus bound to secrecy as were the servants at my manor house.” And Loki could hold back no more. He took hold of his Sir’s collar and pulled him close, the deep embrace making him weep for triumph and joy. “Oh my Little Prince!” Stark said with a choked voice. “My sweet clever Little Prince how I missed you!”

“Why did you not come for me? Why did you leave me alone for so long?” Loki pleaded. He was not angry, and yet it was a truth that did linger on his mind.

“After your father’s death you had duties to preform, a duty to family. I could not intrude upon that. And I did not wish to lend suspicion to your reformation by my presence. Though I have done my best to keep my plate clean, my silver is somewhat tarnished by rumor. By the time the New Year’s Ball came about, the thought of being in your presence yet again and still unable to touch you as I once had was painful to me! I could not for all my strength bare it.” He clasped Loki’s hands and kissed him again and again, their mouths opening freely to one another. “Come with me, Little Prince, I have something for you.”

And he took Loki to the cabin in which they would be staying. It was not large, but it was a good accommodation for at least a few weeks at sea. From a chest Stark took a familiar box. He set Loki on the bed and knelt before him like a man set to propose. “No one now is here but us Loki. You have no duty to anyone but yourself. Refuse me and I shall still teach you, still apprentice you and still, always love you without end. But it is the truth of your heart I would ask of you now.” He opened the box and set inside were the finely wrought leather color and manacles, their silver rings polished till they shone against the velvet inlay. “I had thought to keep these in secret, so that I might look upon them and think on your face.”

Loki reached for them, and then paused for a moment. “Will there be other pets?” he asked quizzically, his tone giving away no feelings one way or the other.

“I will leave that to your discretion.” Stark said sincerely. “Should you tell me you wish to be my only little pet, I will forsake my rehabilitation of the wayward youths and keep only you. But should you tell me that you wish for a playmate to keep you company while I must work, I am sure one can be found.”

Loki tapped a finger to his lips in thought. “For a while, I think, I would like to be your only one. To be so treasured in your presence that I fulfill you utterly.” He could not help how his voice rose and pitched in the hopes that this was acceptable.

“You do this regardless!” Stark insisted, but agreed to the terms without hesitance. “But let me tell you this now, for there are to be no secrets between us. Before, when this collar slipped on, you were a pupil, a student to me, though my love for you grew daily. And I knew that one day you would be returned to your family. Loki, Little Prince, this time you put the collar on by choice, under no duress but your own heart. If you put this collar on now, you will belong to me, and I shall own you as a dear and precious little pet is meant to be owned.” His warm brown eyes were fiercely possessive, and yet lost none of the tenderness they always held. “You will be _mine_.”

And he was not afraid. To the contrary, the promise of these words thrilled him to his core! Had Stark been holding back before? Did that mean there were more games, more lessons and disciplines to be stacked before him? Loki giggled almost with the same giddy nature as Lorelei. He took the collar and pressed it to his throat, bending down into Attention with his head lowered so that Stark might buckle it on tightly. He lifted himself into Supplication, the manacles clasped to his wrists with such beautiful finality that he began to weep with joy of it.

“I own you, Little Prince.” Stark said with his voice on the edge of tears himself. “And I love you.”

“Thank you Sir!” Little Prince called out to him, and his heart was at peace at last.

**_Fin_ **


End file.
